


Coming Back as We Are

by HeadCannon



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Pezberry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 05:26:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 73,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeadCannon/pseuds/HeadCannon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>RP-based Pezberry AU fic. </p><p>Pop star Santana Lopez struggles to keep her private life (especially her daughter) out of the public eye. When scandal shakes her world, she takes refuge on a Broadway stage and finds herself with the chance to rekindle a friendship with her childhood friend and new-costar, Rachel Berry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Santana picks up the pot of freshly made coffee and pours it into her favourite travel mug. She sighs tiredly when she almost misses the cup and a few drops splash onto the counter top.

With guest spots on talk shows to promote the album she released in February and a tour that's kept her bouncing from city to city for four months, it's been a busy year for Santana. She's glad, in bittersweet kind of way, that tonight is the last show of the tour. She loves performing and interacting with her fans; but, touring has meant late nights and busy days. It's meant spending less time with her almost four-year-old daughter. And as much as she loves her music and performing, she would give it all up for her little girl.

"Maya, d'you have your shoes on..?" she asks after putting the coffee pot back and making sure the lid is securely on her cup. As she grabs a dish cloth to wipe away the spilled coffee she listens for an answer.

From down the hall, a clear voice calls back, "Yes, Mama! I have two! One and two!"

Santana takes a moment to think about the last time she let her daughter put on her shoes without help and she smiles softly to herself. "Are they the same colour?" She makes her way over to the couch to pick up her bag and rest it on her arm, coffee cup in hand.

"Um," Maya draws out her answer as she stares at her feet. "Yes? This one got more toes."

The woman chuckles as she makes her way to the hall and can't help but smile when she comes face-to-face with her daughter. Maya is the perfect combination of her parents. She's compact, like her mother. Instead of Santana's naturally tan skin, the little girl's complexion is a just a bit darker – more like her father. She has her dad's wide smile and her mom's dimples. Her wildly curly dark hair? It could be either side of the family but her parents only fight to claim it on days when Maya's hair isn't completely out of control.

As predicted, the little girl hadn't been successful in choosing the matching footwear. It seems Maya decided to wear a white ballet-flat on her left foot and a bright green flip-flop on her right.

"Mija, is that how you want to go out? You'll get cold toes, silly."

The little girl wiggles her toes as she thinks about it. Eventually, she points to a pair of rain boots that are lined up in the open hall closet. "Can I wear my lady bugs?"

"You can ..." Santana spots the socks she had put on the girl earlier on the floor and bends down to pick them up. "… but it's not raining. Don't you want to wear these?" She points to a pair of tan boots she bought because they were a perfect match to the little girl's coat. She sits down in front of Maya, places her bag and coffee cup on the floor, and helps the little girl put on her socks - again.

"Okay," Maya say quickly and wiggles her toes a little more, not even noticing that it makes it more difficult for her mom to slip her feet into the socks. "Those are big girl shoes," she says knowingly, as though imparting wise words upon her mother.

"They are." Santana taps Maya's toes before reaching over to grab the boots. She puts on the left boot, and says, "Big girl shoes for a big girl." After kissing the girl's cheek, she stands up, grabs Maya's coat and hands it to her before putting on her own.

"Mama?" the little girl asks as she struggles with her coat. "I'm a big girl now ..." She trails off before looking up with eyes that are nearly identical to her mother's. She takes a few steps and then puts her hand out for the woman to take. "Maybe I can sing with you at the place tonight. If I'm good all day, maybe."

There are few things that Maya will admit to not understanding. She's both smart and proud and that usually means she'd rather work something out for herself than ask for help. Yesterday they toured the arena where her mother would be singing. Afterward, the little girl spent much of the remaining day trying to figure out where they were hiding the flowers in the very-round Madison Square Garden.

Santana purses her lips and swallows roughly as she ties her own coat. Then she bends down to fix Maya's coat collar and says, "We'll see, okay?" She doesn't give the girl much time to answer before standing up, grabbing her bag and coffee cup, and taking the girl's hand to lead her to the door.

Every time Maya attends one of Santana's concerts, the little girl becomes more determined to sing with her mother on stage. This isn't something Santana is comfortable with – knowing that if she allows the girl even a small moment in the spotlight, her daughter's face will be on the front of a magazine or all over the internet. Santana made a promise when Maya was born that she'd protect her little girl from the prying eyes of the media.

And singing to a sold out crowd at Madison Square Garden certainly wouldn't help her keep that promise.

"I'ma be a good listener all day," Maya promises. "And then we can sing the rainbow song!" The little girl hops in place. "The rainbow song is my favourite!"

 _The Rainbow Connection_ was supposed to be a lullaby. It wasn't meant to be anything more than a song to help the little girl fall asleep. By its third use, though, Maya had learned the melody and a few of the words. Any words she didn't know or understand, she just substituted with a series of mumbles, made-up words or "la la"s.

"Maybe we can get Auntie to sing it with us this time." Santana smiles as she opens the door and leads Maya into the hall toward to the elevator. "You want to press the button?"

Maya's finger pokes the button once and then she smiles up at her mom. She remembers the rules even though they are very hard to follow. Push the button once. Only push one button at a time. Don't run around or jump in the elevator. She's tempted to hit the button again but it's lit up and that means it's already on its way.

Santana leads the girl inside when the doors open. Just as she's about to press the ground floor button, her phone starts ringing in her bag. She frowns, knowing how difficult it's going to be to find it in the oversized bag. "Mija, can you press the button to go and see George?" She rummages through her bag as she searches for her phone.

The little girl nods happily and tries not to bounce on her heels. There's no jumping in the elevator.

"Mr. George is ..." she sticks her tongue out as her finger hovers in front of the button panel. "The star!" She presses the ground floor button, decorated with a number one and a star.

Santana finally spots her phone at the very bottom of the bag and sighs when, not only does she realize that she's running late, but also that her manager is calling her.

Holly's probably calling to tell her what she already knows - that she's running late. Or maybe she's calling to ask Santana to pick up a muffin from Starbucks on her way to the arena. It's hard to predict with her best friend-slash-manager.

She rolls her eyes and ignores the call before glancing at the button panel and smiling when she sees that Maya has pressed the right one. "Good job, baby girl."

Maya is still smiling proudly when the elevator dings and the doors slide open. She sees the concierge standing by the front desk and waves enthusiastically. "Hi, Mr. George! I pushed your button!"

George smiles brightly at the little girl. "Good morning, Miss Maya. How're you today?" After the little girl gives him a beaming smile in response, he greets Santana. "G'morning, Mrs. Rutherford."

"Hi, George. Early shift again?" She gives him her best sympathetic look.

Of all the concierges she's known, George is her favourite. He's an older man with grey hair that's starting to thin out and he has a little bit of a belly. There's an almost grandfatherly quality about him, a sort of protectiveness Santana hadn't experienced with others in his position. It's obvious that Santana and Maya's wellbeing is important to him – and not just because it's part of his job.

George has been known to shoo away reporters and, on occasion, he's had to respectfully send away handfuls of fans who have tried to catch a glimpse of the pop star.

Maya mostly likes him because he's always at the ready with a piece of candy and a smile.

"Ah, I don't mind it," George begins. "I miss the traffic and get to have a hot dog on the way home. I got it pretty good. " He smiles pleasantly and winks at Maya.

"Can we get a hot dog, Mama?" the little girl asks.

George holds up his hand. "Oh, Mrs. Rutherford, I should tell you," he pauses to point toward the door. "You got a coupla cameras out there. Just so you know. Your car already out there waiting?"

She nods. "They called a couple of minutes ago. I'm running late, as usual." She chuckles softly and picks Maya up, resting her on her hip. "Mija, Mama's running late. We'll see what catering has, okay?"

Santana looks into her daughter's eyes and, in a very serious tone, asks, "You remember what I told you to do when there are cameras, right?"

Maya snuggles her head against her mother's shoulder like she's supposed to and keeps her face tucked in close to her neck. George walks around the desk and holds the door open.

The few photographers he'd noticed pacing in front of the lobby door have multiplied into, roughly, a horde of paparazzi . He looks apologetically to Santana and holds his arm out in an attempt to shield her and the little girl as they try to cut a path to the waiting car.

"Santana! Santana!" the photographers yell.

Santana's used to paparazzi, but even for her, the crowd of photographers that have gathered in front of the door is unusual – and unsettling. She figures it might be because tonight is her last show of the tour, and they want her to comment about it.

That is, until they start talking. Though Santana can only make out a few words, like "mistress", "husband" and "cheated", she doesn't need more to figure out exactly what's going on.

Matt cheated on her, and didn't even have the decency to warn her before the story hit the media. To say that, in that moment, she was utterly humiliated was an understatement.

One man steps right into her path and asks, "Comment on your husband's choice of mistress?"

As the flashes go off, Maya pushes her face more fully into her mother's shoulder.

"Is this the first time he's cheated?" another person, this one with a video camera, asks loudly.

Santana can feel the rage boiling inside of her, and she's pretty sure that if she didn't have Maya on her hip, she would probably go all Lima Heights. She stops walking for a moment, and takes a deep breath before deciding that her only mission is to get Maya safely inside the car.

Without so much as a word to the crowd, she holds her hand over Maya's ear and follows George to the car, trying her best to keep a neutral expression on her face.

"Back up, gentleman," George says as nicely as he can through gritted teeth. "And ladies," he adds, spotting a few women with cameras.

Maya tightens her hold and breathes in her mother's perfume as she clenches her eyes closed.

George opens the car door and stays behind Santana, blocking her as best as he can from the cameras.

"Can you comment on ..."

"Please back away," George says, a little more forcefully.

Santana places Maya in her booster seat and secures the seatbelt before quickly getting in. She turns her head to George and offers him the most thankful look she can muster before he closes the door.

She glances at the driver and gives him a serious look. "Can you get us out of here, please?"

He nods and starts the engine. "You got it, Mrs. Rutherford."

She lets out a shaky breath before looking into Maya's eyes, cupping her cheek with her free hand. "Baby, are you okay?"

The little girl nods softly, even as her mouth is pulled down into a small frown. She whispers, "It was really loud."

She runs her hand over the girl's head. "I'm sorry, baby. Don't worry about those people outside, okay? Everything is fine."

Santana tries her best to put on a smile for the sake of her daughter. After leaning in and kissing Maya's forehead, she looks into her eyes. "Would you mind holding this for Mama? It's hot, so be careful, okay?"

When the girl holds out her hands in reply, she passes her travel mug to the girl and makes quick work of rummaging through her large bag in search of her phone. Once she's found it, she unlocks it and dials her manager's number.

Maya sniffs the coffee and leans back in her seat a little more comfortably, careful not to let anything spill from the cup. She turns her head and looks at her mother's reflection in the window.

"Ohmygod," the little girl can hear her Auntie's voice through the cell phone. "I've been calling you all morning! Where are you?"

"I'm in the car, on my way." She swallows roughly before asking her next question. "Is it true?"

Santana knows that living in the spotlight comes with a price, and she also knows that stories in magazines and on gossip websites are almost never a hundred percent true. But something deep down is telling her that what the paparazzi were shouting at her only minutes ago is highly likely to be truthful. Something was telling her that her husband had not only been careless and insensitive, but he also humiliated her in one of the worst ways possible.

"I'm sorry, honey," Holly says. "I wanted to be the one to tell you. Are you okay? Is Maya with you?"

"She's here. I can't..." She takes a calming breath. "How could he be so stupid?"

Not even a few miles away, Holly Holiday is pacing backstage in the arena. "I don't know," she says, "but he's caused a massive PR storm. It's going to die down, eventually, but you're in the eye of it." She leans against a tower amp and sighs. "Do you want me to release a comment to the press? I can spin it if you want."

Santana shakes her head, even though Holly can't see her. "No, just – just, wait until I get there, okay?" She glances at Maya and swallows roughly again. "Can you make sure nobody's there when we arrive? I can't handle more press right now."

"Consider it done." Holly snaps her fingers and a large man carrying another amplifier puts his load down and walks over. "I've got Reggie on the gate," she says.

Reggie simply nods and heads to the door.

"Arena security is there, too, but you know Reggie and he's good with Maya. So, if there's any problem, he'll take care of it."

Santana nods. "Thanks, Holls. We'll be there soon, okay?" She's about to end the call when she adds, "And if  _he_ calls you, don't pick up."

Maya frowns deeply, her eyes skirting to the the little opening in the lid of her mother's travel mug.

"Of course," Holly says. "And, hey, I can take care of it. You don't even have to be part of this. You and Maya are my concern. If you want me to make it go away, I don't care what I have to say about him to make that happen."

"I just - let me think about it first, okay? I need some time for it to sink in."

"You got it, honey," she replies. "See you in a few ... "

"Yeah, see you in a few …"

She disconnects the call and puts her phone in her bra where it's more accessible. After scooting closer to her daughter, Santana wraps her arm around Maya's shoulders and gently pulls the girl into her.

Santana lets out a long sigh before relieving her daughter of travel mug duty. She takes a sip and tries to ignore the feeling that she's going to need more than just a cup of coffee to get her through the rest of the day.


	2. Chapter 2

Santana makes her way off stage, high from performing in front of a sold out crowd. The support she feels from her fans is indescribable and has made the evening – this last show of her tour – such an emotional one.

And how many encores was that, anyway? Santana has no idea but she's run out of songs and thinks that, when you run out of songs, it's probably a sign to get off the stage.

No matter how loudly the crowd is cheering.

Her manager meets her at the bottom of the steps that lead from the stage to the backstage area and out to the green room and dressing rooms. Santana smiles, her eyes still a little wet from the he fans' cheers, their home-made signs and all of the other ways she felt her audience giving back to her.

"Thanks for making me go up there tonight," she says gratefully.

"You hear them?" They're still going …" Holly hugs her tightly. "Either they love you or someone laced all the shirts in merch with something really potent. Jeez, listen to that!" She pauses long enough for Santana to hear the continuing cheers even as security is trying to move everyone out of the arena.

"Now, look," Holly looks directly into the other woman's eyes. "I've got a guest I think you need to greet. Get your picture taken - all of that stuff, okay?"

Santana shakes her head sadly. The thought of a meet and greet right now makes her performance high rapidly diminish. "Not tonight, Holls. Please."

"Yes, tonight. Tonight is the exact night you need to do this." Holly grasps her friend's hand and leads her toward her dressing room. "You always greet after the show and if you don't tonight, then people will talk."

She sighs as she lets Holly lead her. "I just want to go home and cuddle with my little girl."

"You can and you will - after a few pictures. Just trust me," Holly says with an encouraging smile. "Okay, go to your dressing room. The sooner we do this, the soon it's over, okay?"

Santana knows that Holly's right. About the meet and greet, about the pictures, about - everything. Because that's how it works with Holly. The woman tells her to do something, Santana does it and everything seems to work out just fine.

She looks into her manager's eyes. "Fifteen minutes, okay?" With that, she sighs and heads to her dressing room.

"I'll have her out in ten," Holly promises as she pulls a walkie talkie out of the waistband of her pants. "Reggie, can you send our guest back, please?"

On the other side of the stage barriers, Reggie hears Holly's request. "Right," he says as he pokes a sausage-like finger toward the two waiting women and then jabs his thumb over his shoulder. "This way."

"Thank you," a woman with light-brown hair says congenially. She stares at the word  _security_  on the back of the man's windbreaker as they make their way down a long hall. She inhales deeply and then glances at her cousin. "Okay, Marley. We'll just get a couple of pictures, do the meet and greet thing and then get out of here, okay?"

Marley pouts, her already wide eyes growing even wider. "But when am I ever gonna get the chance to talk to Santana Lopez again, Rach? C'mon. If she wants us to stay and talk ..."

"- she won't. So, let's do this and go home," Rachel says sternly. "It's getting late."

Santana makes it to her dressing room before her guests. As she opens the door and steps inside, she tilts her head as she smiles softly at the scene in front of her. Kurt Hummel, her stylist, is sitting on the couch and running his fingers through Maya's hair as she rests her head on his lap.

She whispers. "Was she okay? She didn't hassle you to bring her on stage, did she?"

He shakes his head before looking down at Maya, a fond smile pulling at his lips. "She didn't even mention it again after that little tantrum she had before the show." He points to the TV. "We just watched."

After they turn the last corner before the hall of dressing rooms, Marley holds her hand out and stop Rachel from moving forward. She pushes her lips together and hops in place as she stares at the name on the door.  _Santana Lopez_.

"Tell me this isn't the coolest thing you've ever done," she says. "Because this is the coolest thing I've ever done."

"This is  _not_  the coolest thing I've done," Rachel says blandly. "And you know, you havebeen to  _my_  dressing room, too."

Marley frowns in confusion and shakes her head. "But, you're you," she explains. "This is Santana Lopez. And I'm about to knock on her door and meet her. This is, seriously, the coolest thing I've ever done."

While her cousin is talking, Rachel reaches in front of her and raps on the door. "Now it's the coolest thing you almost did."

Santana bends down and kisses Maya's forehead before standing up straight again and taking a deep breath. "It's open … "

She's hoping that when the door opens there is a little girl standing in front of it. Because even though she's having a bad day, just the thought of being able to make a little girl's dream come true brings a smile to her face.

Marley clasps her hands in front of her chest and whispers excitedly, "That's Santana Lopez!"

Rachel just rolls her eyes. "Just go in already."

The younger of the two opens the door and peeks her head in. "Hi, I'm - " she sees the little girl sleeping and lowers her voice. "Sorry, I'm Marley and my cousin ... "

Marley looks behind her, surprised at how her cousin hangs back. Rachel doesn't do that. She leads and pushes and, really, Marley's not sure why the other woman is acting like this is something she's being  _forced_  to do instead of something super amazing that she  _gets_  to do.

She waves Rachel closer.

Rachel bites her lip as she steps up behind her cousin. "Rachel Berry," she says, not sure how to play this off. Should she feign knowledge of the singer? Act like they are strangers? "Hi."

Santana's eyes widen the moment she recognizes the other woman. "Rach-" She clears her throat. "Rachel. What're you doing here..?"

"Marley's visiting me. I thought I'd try to earn some cool cousin points by bringing her to the show," Rachel explains so easily that it almost sounds rehearsed. "You were great by the way. Amazing, really."

"Wait," Marley interrupts. She looks at her cousin, then at the other woman and then back to her cousin. "You didn't tell me you  _know_ Santana Lopez."

"You don't have to say her whole name, Marley."

Santana shakes her head to pull herself out of the daze she's in and walks up to the two girls, smiling softly at Marley. "It's nice to meet you, Marley." She pulls the girl into a quick hug before pulling back and glancing at Rachel. "I didn't - I didn't know you were coming tonight."

"I didn't announce it," Rachel admits. "Sometimes I like to go out under the radar." She bites her bottom lip and blinks before looking away. "It really was a great show ..."

Santana smiles softly, nervously. "Thank you," she says genuinely before admitting, "It was probably the most emotionally draining show I've ever done. The audience was just … " She lets out a sigh, not quite knowing how to put her feelings into words.

"They adore you. It's clear," Rachel says. " I think they really showed it tonight, don't you?"

She nods. "They did. They always seem to be able to take my breath away."

Santana looks at Rachel for a moment - actually looks at her. She didn't always look like that, did she? No. Santana's pretty sure the woman standing in front of her has never looked better. More comfortable. More herself.

There are other people in the room, so Santana forces herself not to let her eyes linger too long or allow her mind to reminisce.

"What about you?" she asks, quickly turning to Marley. "Did you enjoy the show?"

"Are you kidding?" Marley shakes her head and smile brightly. "It was -  _you_ were amazing. I kind of can't believe I'm here right now, actually."

"She's star-struck," Rachel teases. "Never with  _me_  or with  _my_  friends, mind you."

"You're just Rachel," Marley says, rolling her eyes and looping her arm around her cousin's.

"Well thank you. I really appreciate that." Santana leans in to fake-whisper. "I won't tell Rachel you think I'm better than her." She chuckles softly, genuinely, for the first time since she heard about her husband and that 'wannabe skank-whore'. "Seriously, I'm glad you both could make it tonight."

Rachel spies the little girl asleep on the couch. "We should get out of your hair," she says quietly. "Maybe a quick picture?"

Santana nods. "Yeah, of course."

She glances at Kurt. "Lady, mind taking a picture for us?"

"Yeah, sure." He slowly lifts Maya's head off of his lap and stands up, placing her gently on the couch.

Marley's brows furrow as she tries to figure out why Santana is calling her obviously male friend "Lady."

"Here," Rachel waves her cousin over and steps away, letting Marley have the photo with Santana to herself.

Santana furrows her brow at Rachel. "You don't want to be in the picture?"

The other woman's eyes widen a little. "Oh, I just thought ..." Marley smiles brightly and excitedly waves her over. "... okay." Rachel clears her throat and then moves to stand next to Marley.

"No, the other side," her cousin says, pushing her to the other side of Santana so that the woman is sandwiched between them.

Santana smiles and wraps her arms around each one of the girl's waists as Marley hands Kurt her iPhone.

Kurt takes a number of photos. He's learned that, when it comes to brushes with celebrities, it's always best to take a couple of pictures in case the first one is blurry or someone's mouth is open or eyes are closed.

Rachel waits for Santana's friend to tell them that he's got the picture. Her smile is plastered in place - it's the one she always uses after shows when she greets fans. "Got it?"

Kurt nods. "It's great." He smiles and gives Marley her phone back. Santana turns her head and glances at Rachel, her breath hitching, still not quite believing she's standing beside her.

Rachel nervously pulls her bottom lip between her teeth when she her eyes meet Santana's.

"Mama?" a sleepy voice calls out.

Santana's brought out of her daze by her daughter's voice. She gives both Marley and Rachel a soft look before heading to the couch. "Hey, sleepyhead." She runs her fingers through the girl's now messy, curly hair.

Maya blinks a few times before rubbing her clenched hand over one eye. Her lips fall into a pout. "Is it nigh-night time now?" she asks before she notes, "I didn't sing with you."

Santana kisses her daughter's temple. "It's okay, mija." She looks into the little girl's eyes. "You want to meet some people, Maya?"

The little girl blinks a few more times and then looks around her mother at the two strangers. She looks Rachel up and down, and then Marley. After a moment of deliberation, she finally softly says, "Okay."

She scoots off of the couch and steps in front of the women. "Hi. I'm Maya and you're strangers."

Santana chuckles. "They're not strangers." She stands up and makes her way to her daughter, placing her hand on the girl's shoulder. "That's Marley..." She points to the girl. "… and this is Rachel." She swallows roughly as she looks into Rachel's eyes.

"It's very nice to meet you, Maya," Marley says, bending her knees so that she's closer to the little girl's height.

Her cousin's words jar Rachel and she breaks her gaze with Santana. Clearing her throat, she glances at Maya and then back to the woman standing in front of her and whispers, "She's beautiful, Santana. Just - beautiful."

Maya beams. "That's 'ecause I look like Mama!"

"Nah, baby girl. You're way cuter." Santana chuckles as she dips down to pick up her daughter. She rests the little girl on her hip and tells Rachel, "She really is."

Rachel opens her mouth to say something, but then thinks better of it.

"How old are you?" Marley asks, completely charmed by the little girl.

"Four," Maya answers, holding up three fingers.

Santana shakes her head and smiles softly. "You're still only three, mija. You're not four until your birthday."

"My birthday is next," Maya informs Marley. "Then Mama. Then me and then Auntie Holly and then me and then Daddy."

Rachel laughs at the little girl as she nods seriously. "I like the way you think, Maya," she says warmly.

Maya wrinkles her nose and, suddenly feeling shy, buries her face in her mother's neck.

Santana chuckles and shakes her head. "Oh, now you pretend to be shy, baby?" Santana rubs the girl's back soothingly.

Maya giggles but doesn't lift her head.

"We should probably let you," Rachel stalls for a second, "um, do whatever it is you probably need to be doing right now."

Marley nods and holds her hand out to Santana. "It was really nice to meet you. The show tonight was," she trails off, shaking her head in awe, "just amazing."

She takes the girl's hand and shakes it, smiling warmly at Marley. "Thank you, Marley. I really appreciate the support, and I'm glad you enjoyed yourself tonight." She turns her attention to Rachel, not quite knowing what to say.

"So ..." the smaller brunette licks her lips and looks around nervously. Her eyes meet Santana's and she says, "It was really nice to see you again."

She ignores the confusion in Marley's eyes, knowing she'll be questioned incessantly on the way home. Rachel clears her throat and pushes her hand out, awkwardly.

Santana eyes Rachel's hand sceptically before taking it in her own and shaking it. "Yeah, absolutely." She smiles softly, almost nervously at her before biting her lip, Rachel's hand still in her own.

After letting out an embarrassed breath, Rachel rolls her eyes and tugs on the other woman's hand, pulling her into a loose hug.

Santana's lips pull into a soft smile as she leans into the hug.

"It really is good to see you," Rachel whispers before pulling away. "Really."

The other woman into Rachel's eyes as she steps out of the hug.

Marley shuffles her feet as she watches the exchange. She's clearly not in-the-know about what's going on here. It makes no sense to her why her cousin wouldn't have mentioned that she knew Santana Lopez.  _The_ Santana Lopez _._ It's not like Rachel didn't have ample opportunity. Marley had been talking non-stop about the concert ever since her cousin surprised her with tickets.

"Mama," Maya whispers, "do I haffa hug her?"

Santana blinks, the sound of her daughter's voice pulling her out of her trance. With a chuckle, she glances at her daughter. "Do you want to?"

Maya shakes her head, her curls bouncing as she does so.

"You don't know what you're missing," Rachel teases. "I give good hugs, kiddo."

The little girl squints and studies the other woman. Then she shakes her head again, reiterating her earlier decision.

Santana twirls one of Maya's curls around her finger. "That's okay, pretty girl. Maybe next time." She takes her eyes off of her daughter and looks to Rachel, the question obviously addressed to her.

Marley sees her cousin's mouth open and close a few times, an answer obviously not coming to her very quickly. "That'd be great," she answers for her.

Rachel looks at Marley with wide eyes and then looks back to Santana. "Uh, yeah." She nods. "Yeah, sure. That'd be," she takes a calming breath. "Next time."

Santana offers a gentle smile as she nods. "Okay. I – uh - I better let you go. I know how you don't like driving late at night."

Once they are outside of the dressing room, Rachel lets out a tired breath.

"How does Santana Lopez know you don't like to drive at night?" Marley asks suspiciously.

"That's a story for another night," her cousin answers.

Marley nods and watches Rachel from the corner of her eye. "But there _is_  a story?"

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Another night, Marley. Let's just go home."


	3. Chapter 3

Santana meets Holly at her office the next morning. Normally they'd get together at a coffee shop and hash out their plan over double-shots; but, neither wanted to deal with potential eavesdroppers. And they certainly couldn't meet at Santana's apartment. Not with Maya around.

Luckily, Kurt offered to look after the little girl. By now, he was probably a few episodes into Dora the Explorer and busy braiding Maya's unruly hair.

"So," Holly places a bloody mary on the small glass table in front of Santana. "How are you?"

Santana sighs and takes the glass. "The bags under my eyes don't give it away?"

Holly puts her drink down. "I was easing into it, honey. But if you're ready to jump right in ..." she says as she slips into her chair. "I guess I have to ask how much you know before we can figure out what to do."

"I've been keeping away from the internet and Matt had the decency not to call me yesterday. He's probably still sleeping." She takes a sip from the glass that was in front of her before putting it down.

"Okay, then. Let me rephrase," her friend offers. "How much do you want to know?"

She looks into Holly's eyes. "As little as possible."

Holly nods before letting out a little sigh. "I'm sorry this is happening. But you know that we're going to nail his ass to the wall, right?"

"No." Santana glances at her glass. "I don't want that."

"Yes, you do."

She shakes her head before catching her friend's gaze again. "If we do that, Maya's going to grow up knowing what her father did. And everyone around her will know it, too. I don't want her to go through that."

Holly looks down and toys with the rim of her glass. "She's going to find out someday, anyway, you know?" She meets her friend's eyes. "One day, she's going to pick up a biography or something and it's going to be in there."

"I know, okay?" She sighs. "And that's going to be hard enough. I don't want to make it worse by… nailing his ass to the wall." She gives Holly a pleading look.

"Okay. Look, it's your call." The other woman pushes her drink away and puts her hands on the table, open for Santana's. "Plan B, then. Pull a Jennifer Aniston."

Holly takes her friend's hands and announces, "Take the high road."

"As your manager," she says, "this is the best thing you can do. As your friend … " she trails off before giving Santana a cheeky smirk. "I'm still up for ass nailing."

Santana chuckles. "You never really liked him, did you?"

The other woman grimaces. "It's not that I don't like Matt. I do," she says, only half-believably. "You want me to be honest with you?"

Santana nods and smiles softly. "When have you not been?"

Holly looks up, as though thinking about it. "You're right," she finally says, bringing her gaze back to Santana. "Truth is, he's fine," she admits. "For someone else."

"I thought that person was me. Once." Santana sighs. "Honestly, I don't blame him for what he did. I just - I wish he had been more careful."

"Why didn't you tell me there was trouble in paradise?"

She glances down at her glass. "Who wants to admit that?"

"Fair point." Holly squeezes Santana's hand. "Aunt Holly is always around, okay? Maybe I could have helped or at least taken you shopping."

She pauses, tilts her head and asks, "Did he break your heart or just your pride?"

Santana takes a moment to think before swallowing roughly. "If I say my pride, will you judge me?"

Holly shakes her head and confidently answers, "Never." She lets go of her friend's hand and leans back in her chair. "The best revenge for wounded pride, you know, is to make it look like you're not hurt at all. Can you do that?"

She nods her head. "I think so. How upset did I look yesterday when I got into that car?"

"You looked ..." Holly pulls her phone out of her pocket and brings up a photo from TMZ. "To someone who doesn't know you? In a hurry, maybe? To someone who does?" She sets the phone on the table, facing her friend. "Your eyes say it all, Santana. You were blindsided."

Santana glances at the screen and sighs. "Do you think they knew – about the blindsided?"

"Honesty, right?" Holly asks and then, without waiting, she says, "Yes. But it's a good thing. You've got the media on your side and taking the high road will keep them there."

The other woman lets out a shaky breath. "Has his team commented on all of this? Is he denying it?"

Holly laughs. "Oh, no. His agent's not letting him near the press and everyone's being very tight-lipped. But, Sugar ..." The woman stops talking and winces, realizing that Santana probably didn't know the name of the woman responsible for this mess.

Santana frowns and raises her brow. "Sugar? Sugar Motta!?"

"The one and only," Holly admits. "And, as you know, the only thing she likes more than talking is tweeting. She's loving the attention and insists they're in love. Again," she emphasizes, "Matt's camp is going without comment right now."

Santana rolls her eyes. "Of course they're not." She sighs and sips her drink. "So, what was it? A picture of them? Or did she tweet something?"

"Let's just say that she's  _not_  very smart," Holly says firmly. "It was a picture and she thought she was being sly, I guess, because it was of Matt's back, not his face."

When Maya was born, Matt felt like the happiest, proudest daddy ever to set eyes on his baby girl. True, the baby might have not been planned, but there wasn't a moment that he didn't consider her a blessing. He was in love from the start.

That's why, when Maya was only a week old, he made up his mind to dedicate an art piece on his back in honour of his baby girl. Inside of a stylized heart was inked her first and middle names along with her birthdate. Had Matt not gotten such a personalized tattoo, he might have been able to deny that it was him in Sugar's photo.

Santana's scoffs. "Not very smart? Holly, his tattoo is almost as famous as he is. That wasn't 'not very smart,' that was really stupid."

"Well, that and the fact that you could see her in the mirror and she was wearing his jersey," The other woman sighs. "There's no doubt it was his number. So, add that and the tattoo to the fact that he was asleep in her bed? Media field day."

Santana sighs deeply. "I don't get how he could be so stupid. I mean, even if he didn't want to protect our relationship, he should have at least thought about Maya."

Holly brings her glass to her lips and, before taking a sip, offers, "Ten bucks says he wasn't thinking with his brain."

"You're damn right there." She purses her lips together. "I guess I don't blame him."

The other woman struggles to swallow her mouthful of Bloody Mary. "You don't blame him? Did you take some drugs before coming over?"

She looks into Holly's eyes. "No, no, I blame him for not being careful. I think he was really fucking stupid and irresponsible. But…." She shrugs. "… the actual cheating part? I guess not so much."

"You're not about to confess something to me, are you?"

Santana furrows her brow. "What?" It takes a moment for it click and her eyes widen. "You think I cheated? God, no. When would I have had time for that?"

"So, what you're saying is - " Santana's cell phone interrupts Holly's thought.

Santana looks cautiously into her friend's eyes. "Lemme check that, okay..?" She takes her phone out of her bra and sighs at the name on the screen. "It's Matt."

"Want me to take it?" the other woman asks almost hopefully as she puts her hand out. There's a devious glint in her eyes as she tries not to jump out her seat and take the phone out of her friend's hand.

Santana shakes her head and takes a steadying breath. "No, I may as well get this over with."

She answers the call without a greeting. "Explain and good luck."

"Oh, hey." Matt sounds surprised but tries to cover it by clearing his throat. "I didn't think you'd pick up ..."

"I wanted to hear how you were going to try and get yourself out of this one. So, let's have it." She glances at Holly. "I'm prepared to shovel through your bullshit excuses."

"I'm sorry." He mutters, clearly not knowing what else to say. "I'm just, I'm really sorry."

"You're sorry?" She raises her brow. "You're sorry, Matt? Do you think you could've had the fucking decency to warn me at least? I could've done something about it. Prepare, maybe?"

He blows out a long breath into the phone. "That's what you're mad about?" he asks, his voice teetering between disbelief and hurt. "You just care about how it made you look, is that it?"

She takes a deep breath. "Are you sorry about cheating on me?"

"No, but you could at least act like it hurt you a little," Matt says. "You could act like you care that our marriage is over. God, San ... "

She clenches her jaw. "You don't get that from me. You don't deserve it." She lets out a shaky breath. "You weren't exactly thinking about me and our marriage when you were fucking her, were you? And what about our three-year-old daughter, Matt!"

It's quiet on the other end of the line for a moment. "I should have told you," he admits. "And I know how I look to everyone else but…." Matt pauses. "But look, you can do whatever you want just don't bring MJ into this. Can we leave her out of it?"

"Something else you should have thought of because guess who was with me when the paparazzi showed up to yell today's entertainment news in my face?" Santana closes her eyes and tries to calm herself. "What am I supposed to tell her? What if she sees those pictures on a magazine or something? She already heard what those paparazzi said."

Holly tries her best not to look like she's eavesdropping on Santana's half of the conversation by concentrating on her drink. When that one's done, she grabs the her friend's abandoned drink and starts on that one.

"I can't change what Sugar did -" he begins.

"You should've been  _careful_ , Matt. You should've.." She closes her eyes for a second and rubs her temple."You should have been thinking about what  _you_  were doing."

"I was careful," he argues. " _You_  didn't know, did you?" Matt sighs. "Look, I don't want to draw this out. We both know we've been heading here for a while. So, I won't fight you on money or anything. But Maya ..."

Santana's breath hitches. "What about Maya?"

"I'm not just going to walk away from her."

"Do  _you_  think I trust you with her now? That you have a choice?"

"I stepped out on you, not on her," Matt says. "Don't make this about her."

"I'm not letting my child be around that Paris Hilton wannabe, okay?"

Holly crosses her arms as she listens and frowns once the conversation turns to Maya. She gets up, finds a piece of paper on her desk and writes a note. She comes back to the table and slaps it down in front of Santana.

_Tell him: Full custody or Holly's releasing a statement._

Matt and Holly have always had a tumultuous relationship. It couldn't be any other way. How could they get along once he learned that Holly tried to talk Santana out of marrying him?

Santana glances at the piece of paper in front of her and reads what Holly wrote. She looks up into Holly's eyes, slightly unsure of saying what Holly told her to. "I don't trust you, Matt. And I sure as hell don't trust or want Maya around  _her_. So." She pauses before firmly stating," I want full custody."

"Santana!" her husband's voice gets louder. "C'mon, don't do this to me, okay? We can work out a shared thing ..."

Holly grabs the paper, scribbles on it and shoves it toward Santana. She points to the phone and nods her head.

_The media is on your side and the courts will be, too. Tell him to be smart._

"I don't want a  _shared_ thing, Matt. Even part time I don't want her around Sugar. Full custody or Holly's releasing a statement." She purses her lips together. "Do the right thing, Matt."

"You have to promise me that you won't keep her from me, Santana," he says desperately. "I can't lose her over this. You just gotta promise me, okay?" He pauses and clears his throat. "I'm still her daddy and you'll let me see her."

She sighs and closes her eyes. "I know how much she adores you. I'd never take that away from her. But this is on my terms. And you have to promise  _me_  that rich bitch goes nowhere near Maya."

"Done," Matt replies with easily. Holly rests her hand on Santana's shoulder and watches the other woman's face carefully.

Santana meets her friend's impatient gaze and nods her head.

"Can I ask why you did it, Matt? And I don't mean the cheating part, because ..." She exhales softly and presses her lips together. "... because I get that part. But why would you let the media get a hold of this? Would you ruin us so spectacularly? I thought, if nothing else, we'd always be best friends."

Matt was the first person Santana met when she moved away to college. She was staring at a map of the UCLA campus, a frown firmly set on her lips, when he offered her a charming smile and directions to the Schoenberg Music Building. They went their separate ways that day, but ended up running into each other in their on (and off) campus hangouts: an all-night midterm study jam in the student activities center, the early bird workout at the John Wooden Center, a late night pizza craving-stopper at Enzo's.

A few months after they started dating, Matt confessed that he thought it was some kind of divine intervention that brought them together. A cheerleader and a basketball player - both aiming for the stars in high risk careers – just seemed to make sense.

It was Matt, after all, who pushed Santana to leave the stability of college life and reject the "fall back" plan in order to make her dreams come true. He believed in her talent (as much as his own) and supported her when she left UCLA to tour as a background singer.

She returned the favour when he was a top draft pick at the end of his senior year. She'd already been working on her album and was gaining fans, as well as critical acclaim. With Holly managing her, she found a way to take off to attend Matt's games without stopping the momentum she'd been creating. Santana was court-side his entire first season, cheering him on.

They were the golden couple.

"It wasn't me, Santana," Matt says. "I wouldn't do that to you. And I know you don't believe me because of what happened but I didn't know she was going to post a picture."

"You're telling me you had no idea she was going to do something like that?"

"No, I mean," he flounders. "I thought she was making an idle threat. I didn't think she'd actually do it."

Had Matt actually taken a moment to think about who he was fooling around with, he would have realized that no threat is an idle threat when given by a spoiled socialite. Sugar cornered him earlier the evening she took the now-famous photo and asked him how much longer he needed before leaving his wife.

He couldn't answer because he never actually intended to leave Santana.

In hindsight, it probably wasn't a good idea to let the sort-of celebrity know this.

Santana rolls her eyes and scoffs. "You should've done something about it, Matt."

He blows out a breath. "I know that ... now." Matt inhales. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Santana. You know that, right? "

"I find that hard to believe."

"I don't want you to hate me," he admits. "We were best friends for a long time and, okay, I should have been honest with you. But you knew we weren't working." His voice is softer when he says, "We - I - didn't want to accept it but we don't belong together anymore. And I should have said something. I should have."

Santana bites her lip and her expression turns softer. "I know you're not the only one to blame. I know I wasn't exactly the easiest person to be with ..."

Matt laughs softly. "I think it's the not being with you that wasn't easy. We haven't been together in a long time, not like we used to be. And I realize, kind of late, that I owe you honesty."

He's quiet for a moment and then admits, "I know you haven't been in love with me. Not for a while now or, I don' t know, maybe not ever. But you deserved better than this. I should have had the guts to just call it off."

Holly narrows her eyes when she notices that Santana hasn't said anything for a little while.

"I'm sorry. This went down the wrong way and," Matt says, "I'm just really, really sorry about that."

"I ..." She swallows roughly, not knowing how to answer him. "... I think you deserved better than this, too." She takes a deep breath. "If I ask you something, will you be completely honest with me..?"

"A hundred percent," he answers without even thinking.

"How many were there?" She glances at Holly.

"Is it important?"

"It is to me," she says. "I need to know if the press is going to try to surprise me again."

"Shit," Matt whispers to himself. "A few? Like, maybe six, I guess? I didn't count - they didn't mean anything."

Holly squeezes Santana's shoulder and gives her a questioning look. "You okay?" she mouths to her friend.

"I thought if I found someone to fill in the spaces we were missing, then we'd be fine," he explains. "Which sounds really, really stupid when I say it out loud."

She closes her eyes and lets out a shaky breath, trying to keep her emotions out of her voice. "Yeah, really stupid. Asinine, actually."

Matt's voice is almost a whisper. "It's okay if you hate me. I get it."

"I don't hate you, Matt. I hate the way you chose to deal with all of this, but I don't hate you. I kinda want to, though. Kinda wish I could." She chuckle humourlessly.

Holly lets go of Santana's shoulder and takes the seat across from her. She grabs the note on the table and starts playing with it. "So, I guess, um," Matt finally says, "the rest is for our lawyers and managers, huh?"

Santana nods, even though Matt can't see her. "Yeah, I guess so." She stays quiet for a moment before continuing. "I think I'm going to stay in New York for a while. Let things sink in."

"Yeah, okay," he says. "And we can talk about Maya coming out to visit or, you know, me coming to see her sometime?"

"We'll look into it." She purses her lips together.

"I can't ask for more than that, I guess," he says sullenly. "Look, I'm going to go. I have stuff to do - clean up and, whatever."

"Yeah, yeah. I have to get going, too. I'll be in touch about Maya, okay? Maybe you can Facetime with her later tonight or something."

"I'd like that, thanks," he says, "bye."

Holly waits and, when she thinks Santana is about to hang up, holds up a small paper crane and smiles.

Santana smiles sadly at Holly as she places her phone on the table. "So, guess that's it."

Holly pushes the crane toward Santana. "You alright, Peaches?"

Santana just shrugs and takes the paper crane. She'd rather focus on the paper bird than on her friend.

"This sucks, but it's going to get better," Holly says. "And I have just the thing to get your mind off of this mess."

She looks into Holly's eyes, a soft smile flirting with the edges of her mouth. "Are you going to suggest another bloody mary, because I saw you drinking mine?"

"I wasn't trying to be discreet," the other woman says and, to emphasize her point, she downs the rest of Santana's drink. "So, I heard a wild rumour through a very tangled grapevine that you plan to stick around and play in my neighbourhood for a while ..."

Santana gasps playfully. "Were you eavesdropping?" She chuckles and nods her head. "Yeah, I like New York. And usually," She makes a point of emphasising her last word. "The paparazzi aren't so bad here. I think that's probably best for Maya."

"Good!" Holly pops out of her sea and grabs a large envelope from her desk. "I think you should do this." She hands the package to Santana and pops her brows up and down as she waits for the other woman to open it.

When her friend doesn't open the envelope fast enough, Holly waves her hands in front of her, gesturing for her to hurry.

Santana eyes the package sceptically before glancing at Holly. The one good thing about having your best friend as your manager is the fact that you can trust them completely. So Santana decides not to question it any further before opening the envelope and taking out what seems to be a bunch of papers.

When it's completely out of the envelope, Santana realizes it's a script. She glances at the title and then back to Holly. "Broadway?"

"The producers came looking for you," Holly explains. "Their Lucy is going out on maternity and they want to bring you in for a short run. I think you'd be great."

She runs her finger along the title. "Jekyll and Hyde ..." Her eyes go from the script to Holly. "Have you seen it?"

"Twice," she says. "Let me tell you ... Emma? The other female lead? She's amazing." Holly snaps her fingers a few times. "I don't remember her name. I just call her Emma. Anyway, you should do this."

"You said the producers came looking? Was this before? Because with all this media attention I'm getting, they might not want me anymore."

"You're kidding, right?" Holly pushes her brows together. "Broadway needs some media attention right now. And you're on the right side of the story. If anything, they'll be more interested."

She nods and then glances back down at the script. "Let me read it first, okay? You know I don't like doing things I'm not a hundred percent committed to."

"You're going to love it," Holly says before teasing, "You get to be a prostitute with a heart."

Santana chuckles. "Oh, is that how you see me, huh?"

She looks at Holly and takes a deep breath before asking. "How many shows are there a week? Because I've just spent months on tour, and even if I want to do this, there's still Maya to consider."

Holly takes the script and sets it on the table. "The show runs six nights a week, but we can negotiate your appearances. As long as you do the Friday Saturday and Sunday shows, we can finesse a few extra days off for you."

Santana nods again and gives Holly a soft look. "Thanks, Holls. I don't know how you do it, but you know the things I want even before I do." She chuckles.

Holly just gives her an enigmatic smile. "You wanna thank me? Buy me a street taco. I haven't had one in ... " she huffs and pouts, "like, two days."

Santana rolls her eyes playfully. "Only if you don't mind Maya tagging along." She wrinkles her nose as she thinks. "I'm pretty sure Kurt has had his fair share of Dora for the day."

"Psh, he's a wuss. He'd never survive our sleepovers." Holly grabs her purse and checks that her office keys are inside before ushering Santana out of the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Watching her daughter skip in front of her, Santana takes a calming breath before calling out, "Maya Jade, I said no running."

"M'not running! I'm skipping!" Maya announces as she propels herself even further ahead of her mother. She stops at the doors to the auditorium and, once Santana catches up, the girl smiles brightly. "I win!"

Santana gives her daughter an unimpressed glance before holding open the door that leads to the theatre.

From her spot in the wings, Rachel doesn't hear the doors opening or notice that she's not alone in the theatre anymore. With a take-out coffee cup in one hand and her other stretched out to brush against the velvet curtain as she passes it, she walks onto the stage.

As usual, she's the first there. Her director is nearly always late and, even though the man only lives a few blocks away, she knows he'll blame traffic for his tardiness. Her co-star – the one who isn't about to begin maternity leave – likes to make an entrance and that can't happen if no one else is there. The stage manager, she knows, is in the office having already set up everything they need for their rehearsal-slash-meeting.

The clicking of heels on wood stops Santana mid-step. She takes her eyes off of her daughter, the little girl descending the steps a little more quickly than she prefers, and looks up at the stage.

She's not sure who she expects to see. The stage manager or director, perhaps? Maybe the costume designer or lighting director? She runs through a list of people who could be on the stage. Crew, cast ... a whole litany. Her eyes widen as she sees the one person she hadn't considered.

Rachel Berry.

A part of her thinks it isn't a coincidence and she wonders if maybe fate is working through some plan. A different part of her says, if that's what's happening, then fate has a weird sense of humour. This isn't at all what she had in mind when she told the other woman that she'd like to see her again.

The truth of the matter is that Rachel is part of a past she hasn't been able to shake completely. It's almost bittersweet. The woman standing in front of her is a reminder of things she thinks she'd rather forget – so many fears, lies, regrets – but at the same time there's something so welcoming about being in her presence again.

Her attention is pulled from the stage when Maya shouts, "Lookit, Mama!"

The little girl spins around and walks backward, taking exaggerated steps to make sure she doesn't fall over. She pushes her arms out for balance and, once she's sure she's stable, gives her mother a toothy grin. "I'm goin' backward!"

Rachel's attention is pulled toward the house when she hears the small, clear voice.

"Honey, you're going to fall. Turn around, okay?"

Rachel squints into the darkened house but she is only able to see faint outlines of figures. "Hello?"

Taking her eyes off of her daughter again, Santana glances up to the stage and says, "Hey. Hi, Rachel."

The woman on stage puts her hand up over her eyes to block the spotlights and tries to see into the house. "Santana?" she asks in confusion. "Is that you?"

"No, it's  _Mama_ ," Maya corrects stubbornly as she finally turns to walk the right way.

"Yeah, it's me." Santana squeezes her daughter's shoulder. "Are you in the show?" She knows the answer but for some reason feels the need to hear it directly from the other woman.

"I am," Rachel answers. "Are you touring the theatre? Seeing the show tonight?" She tries not to sound hopeful, but she can't deny that a part of her kind of likes the idea of Santana stopping by to see her - of her coming to the show and seeing her perform, of seeing that she was successful in attaining at least part of the life she'd told Santana, all those years ago, she was going to have.

Santana furrows her brow. "You don't know?" When Rachel just continues to look at her expectantly, she hesitantly says, "I'm actually your new co-star."

"You - you're taking Lucy while Bridget's on leave?" Rachel's attempt to hide her surprise fails spectacularly.

Santana nods. "Yeah, I wasn't sure about taking the role, but someone I trust persuaded me into doing it." As she reaches the edge of the stage, she places her hands on it and looks up at Rachel.

"I didn't even know Broadway was on your list," the other woman says casually. A tiny smile grows as she says, "I'm glad it is, though. You'll love it. And Marley will be so excited to get to see you perform again. She ... ." She shakes her head as she trails off. After a little giggle, she says, "She's  _still_  talking about the fact that she met you."

Rachel rolls her eyes before clasping her hands over her chest, making her voice sound giddy and saying, "Can you believe I actually met  _the_  Santana Lopez? If I didn't have the picture, I would think it was a dream ..."

The other woman chuckles warmly. "She's sweet."

"Mama, I wanna go up there," Maya announces as she tugs on her mother's jacket with one hand and points to the stage with the other. "Can I?"

Glancing down at her daughter, she smiles. "Up on stage?" She raises her brow and her smile playfully grows. "C'mon, then." Santana takes Maya's hand and leads her to the steps at the side of the stage.

Instead of taking the stairs normally, Maya hops from step to step, pulling on Santana's hand every time she lands.

Santana watches her daughter jump and chuckles. "Just be careful, okay?"

"Hop, hop, hop" the girl chants as she bounces to from step to step.

Rachel pulls her bottom lip between her teeth as she watches Santana interact with her daughter. So much time has passed and the woman in front of her is so different from the girl she knew. She can't put her finger on it, exactly; but, it's almost as if Santana figured out how to exist in her own skin. She's not that volatile teenager who was always on the verge of exploding.

It's almost as if she's settled into herself.

Once they get on stage, Santana leads Maya over to Rachel. She allows herself to make eye contact with the other woman and smiles softly, greeting her with a quiet, "Hey."

Rachel presses her lips into a teasing smile and raises her brows. "Hello to you," she says formally. Her attention shifts to the little girl at Santana's side. "And hello to you, too, Maya."

The little girl wrinkles her nose and steps behind her mother.

Santana turns her head to glance down at Maya. "Maya, baby. You're not shy."

"Yes, I am," Maya whispers, peeking out from behind Santana only to find that the woman isn't even looking at her. She's looking at her mother. "Can we go home now, Mama?" the little girl asks plainly.

A bad feeling settles in Santana's stomach. She just knows this isn't going to go well.

There's no doubt that Santana loves her child. There's nothing and there's no one in the world she loves more. But Maya has a stubborn streak that, more often than not, clouds her social judgment.

Maya has never liked meeting new people. Santana believes the little girl would be fine if her entire world consisted of Mama, Daddy, Aunt Holly and George – and an audience. The little girl loves performing and has never shown a fear of crowds; but, one-on-one situations tend to make the girl antsy and, on some occasions, she ventures out of adorably single-minded and into aggravatingly stubborn.

She doesn't blame her daughter. In fact, she knows that much of it is due to how she and Matt have tried to protect her. There are some really weird (and dangerous) people in the world and, being in the public eye, Santana's largest concern is keeping her daughter safe. She's working on helping Maya open up to new people without making the girl think that she should be open to  _all_  new people.

Santana looks into her daughter's eyes and says, "Maya, you've met Rachel before. Stop being silly and say hello."

The little girl clutches the back of her mother's jacket but doesn't offer up a greeting.

"It's okay," Rachel says to Santana, not wanting to put the girl on the spot. "She doesn't have to, San." Her eyes widen just a fraction and then she corrects herself, "Santana."

The other woman's breath catches in her throat. That's a nickname she hasn't heard in a long time – and an even longer time coming from Rachel. It takes her by surprise and she blinks owlishly a few times as she realizes that hearing it wasn't the horrible reminder she thought it would be. In fact, it's pleasantly nostalgic and Santana finds herself actually enjoying it.

Tilting her head, she gives Rachel a soft smile. "It's cool. Whichever you prefer is fine with me."

"No," a small voice argues. "Only Daddy and Auntie can call you that." Maya pokes her head out from behind Santana, looks up at Rachel and suggests, "You can say Mrs. Rutherford like George does."

Unsure of what to say, the other woman presses her lips together, her eyes darting to Santana's.

The other woman sighs. Not only has Matt  _not_ called her that in a long time, but she's actually not unhappy about it. And Holly has, for some reason, taken to calling her  _honey_ ,  _sweetie_ , and sometimes even  _darling._

She turns fully to Maya and crouches down to look into her eyes. "Mija, don't be rude. Mama knows Rachel, okay? We're friends, so if I say she can call me that, then it's okay."

The little girl looks down at her shoes. "Okay, Mama ..."

"Santana," Rachel says softly, not wanting the little girl to get in trouble on her account. "It's fine - she doesn't know me, so ... It's fine, really. I get it."

Maya peeks up at the other woman and then goes back to looking at her feet.

Santana kisses her daughter's cheek before standing up and looking at Rachel, wordlessly indicating that she has her attention again.

"So ..." Rachel doesn't really know what to talk about suddenly, and maybe for the first time in her life, she feels uncomfortable on a stage.

There's the giant elephant in the room, but she's reluctant to bring it up. Any talk of what's going on with the media - and Santana's marriage - is bound to bring them to a discussion of things that, especially for new co-workers, are best left alone.

Santana chuckles nervously. "Since when have we ever been awkward with each other?"

"I'm sure if we go far enough back, we can come up with a few examples," Rachel teases, her eyes glinting under the lights. "Let's talk about now, though," she suggests. "I would have thought you'd be taking a break after your tour. Your show was so high energy and," she pauses to chuckle, "not at all like those small shows you used to do."

Rachel wrinkles her nose cutely and admits. "As much as I like the multitudes of dancers, I kind of miss the smaller venues."

Santana's eyes narrow and she tilts her head at the other woman's confession. Did Rachel just say she had been to her earlier shows? That she sat in a smoky bar or a crowded club – voluntarily – just to hear her perform?

"You saw my earlier shows?"

"Well," Rachel tucks her hair behind her ear. "Your tours always came through the city, so ... you know." She bites her lip nervously. "I may have seen a few."

Of course, she meant to say that she saw nearly every show. The only performance Rachel missed was early on when her understudy was out with the flu and she didn't have the option of taking the evening off.

Santana's mouth falls open slightly. "I can't believe you actually went to my shows." She smiles softly.

"Why not?" Rachel asks, laughing. "It's not like I woke up one day and hated your voice. I always loved listening to you sing, you know that."

Among the woman's favourite vocalists are Barbra Streisand, Celine Dion, Karen Carpenter and Santana Lopez – all talents she learned to appreciate at a young age.

Santana narrows her eyes again, her gaze catching Rachel's. "I loved listening to you sing, too."

"You better," the other woman jokes, her lips twisting into a grin. "You're stuck with me for the few months. And we have a duet."

"I read over it in the script and checked it out online," she says with a nod. "It's a pretty great song."

"I know a song," Maya pipes up.

Santana smiles warmly at her daughter. Leave it to music talk to bring the girl out of her shell. She thinks it might be a sign that Maya is warming up to their new (old) friend.

"Wanna hear it?" Before anyone can answer, she starts singing  _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star_.

Rachel can't help the smile as she hears the girl's voice ring out over the stage. She only barely keeps herself from giggling when the girl sings, "Up-a bup-a world so high ... "

After singing the same line a few times, Maya trails off. "And that's how my song ends," she says knowingly.

"That was very good," Rachel says, clapping her hands together lightly.

"It really was," she repeats look at Santana. "She might follow in your footsteps. You could probably even get her into a show. Someone's always looking for a kid to sing."

"Oh, uh." Santana closes her mouth and then opens it again, but stops herself from continuing. She doesn't want to get into this discussion at the moment - especially not in front of Maya.

There's no doubt that the little girl can sing. She has a clear voice and she knows how to push a lot of sound out of her small body. Her diction isn't perfect most of that has to do with the fact that she's four years old and she has the vocabulary of a four year old kid – or, according to Matt's mom, an almost four year old rapper. Santana blames Matt's team mates for that.

The little girl has made no secret of her desire to be on stage with her mother. It's a fight before every performance. Maya wants to sing. Santana wants her off stage – away from the cameras, away from the lights, and away from the crowds. If she's not at home, then Santana wants her backstage with her Auntie – safe and protected.

Maya has her whole life ahead of her and Santana decided a long time ago that her little girl  _will_  have a childhood.

She's seen first-hand how kids in  _the business_  fare when they try to blend in with  _normal_  kids. So, Maya will go to school and she will have friends. She will go to prom and tease her date about how scared he was when her mom opened the front door. And she will have the privacy she needs to make her mistakes and learn from them.

Santana has it all planned out. All she has to do is keep Maya out of the spotlight.

A simple shake of her head is all the reply she offers.

Rachel can't say that she understands why the other woman doesn't want to talk about it. Of course, how much can she expect to understand about a person who is more of a stranger than a friend? She decides to leave it alone.

"Mama, can we colour now?"

Santana shakes her head. "We didn't bring your colouring stuff, baby. We'll do some when we get home, okay?" She shifts her attention back to Rachel and asks, "So, is this Blaine any good?"

"He's really good, actually. Exceptional," she answers and tries not to be affected by Maya's pout. When the little girl's frown is too much for her to take she asks, "Do you want me to see if I can find paper and a pen for her?"

Santana nods her head, grateful for Rachel's suggestion. "Yeah, I'm sure she'd like that."

"Sound good?" Rachel asks Maya, offering her a gentle smile.

"No, thank you," the girl declines politely, if not a little formally.

"Okay," Rachel says haltingly. "Um," she frowns. She takes a sip of her coffee to try to hide confusion. She's usually pretty okay with kids. At least she's always thought she was. She focuses on Santana again and tries to get back to their conversation. "So, you were asking about Blaine ..."

The other woman frowns and lets out a small, frustrated breath. "Rach, can you give us a second?"

Without waiting for an answer, she offers the woman a quick smile and then sets her attention to Maya. Taking her hand, she leads the little girl across the stage and crouches down to look into her eyes. "Okay, what's going on, baby?"

The other woman turns away to give her friend – her new friend? Her new old friend? She's really not sure how to classify Santana, but she hopes they'll be friends. And Santana did tell her daughter that they were friends – her friend a chance to talk to her daughter without feeling watched.

"Nothing," Maya answers. Her mother simply raises her brows and the little girl pouts and revises her answer. "I dunno."

"Do you not like Rachel?"

The little girl remains silent.

"Maya, baby, you said you wanted to colour,' Santana reminds the girl. "Why don't you want Rachel to get you some paper if you want to colour?"

When her daughter shrugs in response, she says the girl's name in the way that mom's do – the way that warns their children that they are on thin ice.

"Am I in trouble?" Maya asks, her lips pulling down into a deep frown.

Santana sighs and shakes her head. "No, of course not, honey. But we're going to have to stay here for a while, so if you want to colour … "

"Just us?" Maya interrupts hopefully, her eyes lighting up.

Santana shakes her head, the look in Maya's eyes breaking her heart. She knows she could spend more time with her daughter. And it kind of makes her feel guilty about taking this job so soon after the tour.

"No, honey. Remember? Mama has to work." She cups the girl's cheek.

"But, Mama," Maya whines. Her little mouth falls back into a miserable pout. "It's not fair! It's  _my_  turn to sing with you."

"Tell you what," she offers with a tap to Maya's pout. "What about we have a Disney movie sing-a-long after we're done here, huh? You can choose which one we watch and we can sing along to all the songs. Sound good?" Santana asks hopefully.

"Okay!" Maya shouts as she hugs Santana.

Santana lets out a relieved sigh and holds her daughter close to her before whispering into the girl's ear. "Can you do one more thing for Mama?"

Maya nods against her mother's shoulder.

She continues to whisper. "I think maybe Rachel's a little sad, like her feelings are hurt. You're such a good hugger that I think it'd cheer her right up. Whaddaya think?"

"Do I hafta say sorry, too?" the little girl asks seriously.

"Yeah, baby. Think you can do that?" She looks into Maya's eyes.

The little girl rolls her eyes to the side as though considering her options. She finally meets her mom's eyes and nods. "Okay ... "

When Rachel hears the light tapping of shoes on the stage, she turns around. "Everything okay?"

Before the other woman can answer, Maya launches herself at Rachel's legs, squeezes them tightly and softly says, "I'm sorry I wasn't nice."

"Uh," the woman's eyes are wide in surprise and she rests her hand on the little girl's shoulder. It's clear that she's taken by surprise.

Santana smirks at Rachel and says, "It's okay to hug her back. She doesn't bite, I promise."

Rachel chuckles and rolls her eyes as she peels the girl's arms from around her legs. She kneels down so that she's eye-level with the little girl. "Wanna start over?" she asks.

Maya wrinkles her nose in confusion.

"I'm Rachel and I knew your mommy when she was little," she says, putting out her hand.

"Little like me?" Maya asks in amazement.

Rachel shakes her head. "Not that little," she says softly. "But close. What do you think? Wanna be friends?"

The little girl sizes up Rachel, squinting as she studies her face. "Okay," she finally says and takes the woman's hand. After a quick hand shake, Maya reaches out to hug her, again.

This time, Rachel hugs her back.

"Now that's more like it. Can Mama get in this hug, too?" She chuckles and starts walking over to the both of them.

"Yay!" Maya cheers, letting go of Rachel with one arm and reaching out to her mother.

Santana kneels down to wrap one arm around Maya and the other falls around Rachel.

Rachel stiffens for a second and forces herself to give her attention to the little girl's embrace, and not at all on the other arm that is securely around her.

"Well, this doesn't look like the scene of two women in love with the same man," a teasing voice calls out from the opposite side of the stage.

Rachel swallows roughly, a little embarrassed, and looks over her shoulder. "Blaine," she says as she quickly rises. "Um, we were just ... this is ..." She clears her throat nervously. "Santana Lopez, our new Lucy."

Santana furrows her brow at Rachel noting how the other woman looks almost as though she was caught doing something she shouldn't. She stands up and turns to Blaine, smiling softly at him. "Hi. I'm Santana." She holds her hand out for him.

"Yes, you are!" Blaine says, stamping his foot on the stage before taking her hand and shaking it vigorously. "When Art said he had a surprise for us, he meant it. Wow!" He looks at Santana in awe.

Maya squints at him and then asks, "Why's your hair all wet? Did you just get outta the bathtub?"

Rachel's laugh stops Blaine from answering. She waves her hand and says, "I'm sorry. Sorry." She presses her lips together and then, after another giggle, offers another, "sorry."

Blaine smoothes his hands over his hair and gives the little girl his best dapper smile. "It's hair gel, cutie pie." He winks at Maya and says, "Lemme guess, you're the new Emma, right?"

Rachel slaps his shoulder. "You shut your mouth!"

He laughs before blowing her a kiss. "You know I love you, Rachie."

"Don't call me that," she replies as she pretends to pluck his kiss from the air and put it on her cheek.

It's silly and even a little juvenile, as is much of what she has to say about her relationship with Blaine Anderson, but it's a thing they do. After two months of gruelling rehearsals, they were so giddy about their standing ovations at curtain that Rachel kissed Blaine's cheek. It probably wouldn't have mattered had he not insisted on meeting press right from the stage – with bright red lipstick on his cheek.

From that moment on, he's insisted that all kisses be sent airmail.

Santana looks between Rachel and Blaine before pursing her lips together. Her eyes narrow as she tries to figure them out. She knows she has no basis for thinking it, but she has a weird feeling as she watches them that they're together.

Not that it matters. Rachel can be with whomever she wants.

"Her name is Rachel," Maya offers smartly as she points to the woman. "And this is Mama."

Santana smirks and says, "But only Maya is allowed to call me that, so..." She chuckles and adds, "I think we're good sticking with Santana. I'm the new Lucy."

"Well hot da-" Blaine stops and looks down at Maya and then chooses another word, "dog. Hot dog." He chuckles. "Santana Lopez is our new Lucy." His shoulders bounce and he smiles happily. "That's it. I have to buy Art a thank you present."

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Do you remember when you told me to tell you when you're being too much?" she asks.

"No," he replies, his brows pushing together. "I never said that."

"You should have," Rachel notes. "I'd be telling you right now.

He rolls his eyes. "Aw, don't be jealous, Rachie." He winks at her and smiles charmingly. "You're still my number one girl."

Santana thinks that maybe it makes sense for Rachel to be with Blaine. They probably spend a lot of time together rehearsing and working. When you spend a lot of time with someone, sometimes things happen.

And Blaine is obviously talented if he's the lead in a Broadway show. Rachel's always been attracted to talent - always. She can even kind of see how he could be charming, you know, if you're into guys who look like they've just had their hair dipped into paint.

Maya tugs on her mother's jacket. "Mama, what's gel?"

Santana quietly jokes, "Something some people use too much of."

"Too much?" Blaine jokes. "No such thing."

Rachel's eyes widen and she pushes her lips together in a thin smile. "There is very much such a thing." She points her thumb to him.

"What? Is it gang up on Blaine day?" he asks, putting on a fake pout.

"Oh, put it away, Blaine," she says, laughing and poking his cheek. "You're a clown and you're showing off for Santana. Don't think I don't know your tricks."

He leans closer to Santana and, pushing his lips to the side he mutters. "Word of advice, don't pull focus. Ms. Berry likes her spotlight."

Santana clenches her jaw. "It's not like she doesn't deserve it. She's an amazing talent." She looks into Blaine's eyes, daring him to argue with her.

"Uh," he laughs nervously, his gaze flitting back and forth between the two women. "Okay. But I was just kidding. Everyone knows that Rach is great. The best even."

Rachel ignores the heat in her cheeks and stares at Santana, not quite sure what to say.

Blaine scratches his ear. "You know, Art's late so I'm just going to go check my messages. See if," he pops his brows up, "You-Know-Who called." He winks at Rachel and then quickly retreats to the other side of the stage, holding his cell to his ear.

"Sorry about Blaine," Rachel says after an awkward moment. "He's kind of a puppy dog, you know? He just kind of crashes into things as he runs around looking for someone to play with."

Santana tries her best not to frown as she looks into Rachel's eyes. "Oh, no. S'fine. She chuckles nervously. "Y'know, I figured you'd end up dating a co-star one day, but I guess I wasn't expecting someone like him."

"Dating?" Rachel echoes, looking at Santana in disbelief. "Blaine?"

He hears his name and looks over his shoulder at the pair. When it seems they weren't calling him over, he returns his attention to his phone.

"He doesn't look like a puppy dog," Maya says in confusion. "His hair isn't even fluffy."

"It's a figure of speech and," Rachel stops explaining what she meant and tilts her head. "What do you mean you figured I'd end up dating a co-star?"

"Oh, I didn't mean that in a bad way. I just - you like talented people." She purses her lips together.

"Oh," Rachel says. "Well, that's true." She nods a few times. "Oh! But, it's not true that we're dating," she adds. "I'm too feminine for his liking."

Santana furrows her brow. "Wait, what?"

Rachel uses her thumb to point at Blaine. "He likes boys," she states, shrugging like it's old news. "And, as much as I love him and I love playing around with him, I could never seriously consider dating someone who uses more product in his hair than I do."

Santana wrinkles her nose in embarrassment. "Oh."

"You know my type, Santana," she says softly. "It hasn't changed."

Maya tugs on her mom's jacket. "Can we get a dog?"

Santana ignores her daughter request, her gaze and soft smile trained on the woman in front of her.

"Is that a yes, Mama?"

The other woman breaks eye contact first and lets her gaze fall on Maya for a moment before she shyly looks back up. There's a nervous pull in her chest but she forces herself to ignore it. She has to. This is Santana Lopez. And Santana is currently married. Even if they are going through a rough patch right now, it doesn't change that fact that she's married - to a man.

Rachel clears her throat and pushes her hair behind her ear. "So, I'm going to text Art and see if he's almost here so we can get started."

Santana frowns slightly at the other woman's statement. She thought Rachel was going to say something else. Or maybe she was just hoping. She supposes that it's for the best that she doesn't. It would be a long, complex discussion and one that would be best when her daughter isn't in the room.

She clears her throat and offers, "It's probably traffic."

"That's what he'll say," Rachel jokes. "I'll just be a second," she points to the wings where she left her bag. Without waiting for a reply, she swiftly crosses the stage.

"Can I pick the puppy's name?" Maya asks, her eyes lit up with excitement.

Santana sighs and picks up Maya. "Baby, we're not getting a puppy."

"But you didn't say no," the little girl argues.

"I didn't say yes either, did I?" Santana plays with one of her curls.

Maya pouts. "You almost said yes."

Santana chuckles and kisses her cheek. "You know I didn't, baby girl."

Rachel walks back onto the stage and calls out loud enough for Blaine and Santana to hear. "I just talked to Artie. He wants us to go over the staging for each of our first numbers with Santana. He should be here soon."

Maya rests her head on her mother's shoulder. "You gotta work now?"

She nods her head and rests her chin on Maya's head gently. "Yeah, baby girl. Are you tired? Why don't you take a nap across those nice, comfy chairs?"

"'kay," the little girl says softly.

Blaine watches Santana settle her daughter. "So, I'm up first. Go sit, Rachel. Learn from the master."

The other woman rolls her eyes and heads down the steps to the house. "How long is your first number?" she asks Blaine.

"About six minutes including lead in, why?"

"Save a few seats for me, San," she calls out. "I might end up napping for about six minutes, too."


	5. Chapter 5

Holly settles on the couch with her glass of wine and looks at Santana expectantly. "So," she begins, a smirk settling onto her lips. "My ridiculously expensive shoes are off, I'm sitting, _and_ I have my wine. I believe I'm prepared to receive your gratitude now."

 

Santana chuckles as she sits down beside her. "Uh, what now?" She narrows her eyes and shakes her head before taking a sip from her glass.

 

"Oh, come on!" Holly whines. "You did _not_ call me over here to tell me that you hate it, did you? And if you did, you better have something stronger than wine to take away the sting."

 

The other woman chuckles again, the light laughter making her shoulders raise. "Of course not. I actually really love the show." Her eyes meet Holly’s and she sincerely adds, "I'm glad you gave me that little push to do it. Y’know, I wasn’t sure about taking on something so soon after the tour, but I’m glad I did."

 

"Of course you are." Her friend looks over the rim of the wine glass as she takes a sip. She pulls the glass away to ask, "So, what did you _need_ to talk to me about, then? Not the show and not the wine because, honey, this may be the best you’ve ever offered."

 

“No, not the wine.”

 

Santana lets out a nervous breath. She had been working up the courage to talk to Holly all day. She’s not intimidated by Holly or really even all that worried about what her friend will think. It’s just that she’s never really told anyone about this before. And even though she knows Holly won’t judge her, she can’t help but be nervous.

 

"Okay, so - I kinda have a confession to make.” Before her friend can say anything, Santana holds out her hand. “Now don't go thinking the worst. I just - I just thought that, as my manager, you should to know."

 

The other woman slowly and very carefully sets her glass down, not trusting herself to not spill it on her friend's carpet. "Okay ..." she says warily, her mind already running through scenarios and spin methods.

 

"So, you know Rachel, right? The actress playing Emma?" Santana pauses, waiting for an answer, and pulls her bottom lip between her teeth.

 

"Yeah, she's so great, isn't she?' Holly asks, relaxing now that her fears Santana was about to reveal an affair while with she was with Matt are allayed.

 

She nods her head. "She really is." Santana smiles softly before continuing. "So - I kinda already knew her before this gig. Even before she came to my show."

 

"Wait," Holly holds up her hand. She then proceeds to move a few of the throw pillows around on the couch to get more comfortable. Once she's settled, she points to her friend and says, "okay, story time. Go. "

 

Santana pulls her feet up onto the couch. "Oh, s'not like a big story or anything. We uh, y’know." She clears her throat. “We had a thing in high school."

 

"A thing? What kind of a thing? Like a rivalry thing or something?" Holly asks. Her eyes get big. "Did you steal her boyfriend? Oh, tell me you stole her boyfriend." She leans back against a pillow and adds, “God, I love story time.”

 

Santana rolls her eyes. "No, I didn’t steal her boyfriend.” She inhales deeply, steeling herself. “By thing, I actually meant, y’know, a _thing_. A _we were kinda a little bit together_ thing."

 

The other woman laughs suddenly but, when Santana doesn't join in, her laughter dies down to muffled giggles. And then her friend doesn’t take the comment back, and the annoyed look on her face makes it clear she isn’t joking.

 

Holly blows out a breath and soberly says, "Oh, shit, are you serious?"

 

"Hundred per cent." A thought strikes Santana, making her brows push together and her bottom lip jut out into a pout. "And why're you laughing? It’s not funny."

 

"I just," Holly shakes her head. "I wasn't expecting that, I guess." She reaches over and grabs her glass, gulping down a mouthful of wine. "This is wild," she says. She's about to see if she can manage to sip this time but she lowers the glass instead and, eyes lit up with mischief, asks, "Wait. How wild?"

 

Santana rolls her eyes and tries to ignore the heat she feels in her cheeks. "I'm not giving you details, Holly."

 

"Wild enough that there _are_ details," the other woman comments to herself. She raises her glass as though toasting. "Noted. And you're telling me this now because ..."

 

"Because,” she forces herself to meet Holly’s gaze, "you've managed to set me up with her twice. And, okay, you were kinda just using her for good publicity at first." She takes a deep breath and shakes her head. "I don't even know if any of this even matters, but I just don't want anyone digging up the past."

 

Holly studies her friend for a moment, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes as she drags her finger over the rim of the wine glass. "What is there, exactly, to dig up?" she finally asks.

 

She raises her brows and suggests, "Yearbooks with the both of you in them? Your names on some Hall of Fame plaque? Or ... " Holly presses her lips together before asking, "Is there some kind of evidence you're worried might show up? Pictures? Video? Love letters?"

 

She pulls her legs up and crosses them on the couch, having turned to face Santana more fully. "Was it a love letter kind of thing or a hook up kind of thing?"

 

Santana frowns and says, "Look, I'm not saying there _is_ anything to dig up. I'm just - I thought I'd warn you. Just in case or something. Give you a heads up."

 

"You know I'm going to spin it, right?" Holly asks, her mind already coming up with sound bites for gossip rags. "Not the part about you two bed bouncing or whatever it was but that you knew each other. That's spin-worthy and we should use it."

 

She furrows her brow. "You want to tell people I knew Rachel in high school?"

 

"I don’t, no. But I think someone else should write an anonymous comment under a photo of you two on BizBuzz or something," Holly says nonchalantly. "Maybe post a picture on tumblr or something with your yearbook pictures ..."

 

If there is anything Holly is good at, besides making a killer appletini, it's starting a buzz. Her ability to leak information without it being traced back to Santana is almost government intelligence level.

 

"So, you want high school pictures, then?"

 

"Oh, don't you worry. I can get them. Easy peasy," the other woman says, snapping her fingers. "This is really good, actually. Everyone likes a girl power story - finding comfort in an old friend? This could work." She nods a few times to herself and adds, “It could actually be really good.”  

 

"You sound more excited than I am." The other woman shakes her head before taking a sip of her drink.

 

"I'm not saying that you have to actually hang out with her. Not if you don't want to," Holly says. "Just let me - or an anonymous web user - make the connection on a photo that's already been taken and will probably be posted on a bazillion blogs when we formally announce the date of your opening night in the show."

 

Santana purses her lips together. "I probably have some old yearbooks and pictures somewhere. You know, if I looked around."

 

Knowing that she can come up with the resources she needs, Holly gives her friend a simple, "Cool." That’s not what she’s interested in right now. She leans back and stretches her legs, pushing her toes into her friend's thigh. "So, what was it? Truth or Dare? Spin the Bottle?"

 

The other woman squints in confusion.   
  
“How your _thing_ with Rachel started,” Holly prompts her friend.

 

"Oh, uh … " Santana bites her lip and hesitates before answering the question.

 

She’s pretty sure Holly won’t understand their story - especially not with what she knows of Rachel now.

 

Rachel Now would stupefy Rachel Then. No, Rachel Then wouldn’t be surprised to find that she’d achieved her dream of lending her star to light up the Great White Way. But she might be tickled to see how sophisticated and even elegant Rachel Now can be. She’d probably point at Rachel Now in shock of how gracefully she is able to navigate the waters of social interaction.

 

That wasn’t a forte for Rachel Then.

 

It wasn’t her fault. Her talent afforded her a lot of opportunities that other kids didn’t have: regular trips to the city, performing on a stage, and even rubbing elbows with celebrities. In order to take advantage of those opportunities, though, Rachel had to make some concessions.

 

Not going to school or adhering to public school schedules was the first. She’d enjoyed a couple of years of public school education and the social interaction it offered. But, come fourth grade, Rachel’s performance schedule kept her in the city and relying on a stage tutor for her lessons.

 

The majority of the girls she used to play with at school made other friends and seemed to forget about her pretty quickly. Even the girls who were in her dance classes moved on – it was like her absence took away her very existence. When she saw these girls at the playground during her breaks, they looked at her with curious and critical eyes, like she was a new girl.

 

But she wasn’t. She was still the Rachel - sweet, friendly and open (almost to a fault).

 

Except she was also Rachel who sings and dances in front of paying audiences. She was Rachel who had grown-ups for friends. Why wouldn’t she? They were the people she saw the most – her fellow stage actors, her director, the people in wardrobe. She was Rachel who was on her way to being a star.    
  
Her dads did their best to keep her young. They cultivated her love for the fantastic and nurtured her dreams. But it didn’t erase that the people she spent her time with were three times her age (if not more).

 

Except for one.

 

Santana Lopez, a skinny little girl with long hair and chronically scraped knees, lived just a few houses away. She never treated Rachel like she was different – not because her parents taught her at home, not because she was living her dream at age eleven and never because she had two men for parents.

 

When other kids were making fun of her for using words to big for them to understand, when girls she used to play with sneered at her clothes, her hair or whatever they could latch onto that day, or when everyone decided to ignore her and pretend she was invisible, she would simply seek out Santana and she knew she still had a friend.

 

They were an odd pair. For every ten-point word Rachel knew, Santana knew one that would have certainly had the girl sent to her room until her Mama called her down for supper. Thanks to years of dance lessons, Rachel was graceful on her feet. Her best friend, on the other hand, had more bruises and scrapes on her elbows and knees than any kid had any right to. Santana argued that it wasn’t her fault that the best places to hang out had to be climbed to (the tree house her Papa built, the top of the detached garage and Rachel’s room, when entered from outside as often it was).

 

For everything Rachel was, Santana was opposite just enough to balance the other girl. Where Rachel was open, her friend seemed to know when to play it close to the vest. Rachel rarely blinked an eye when someone acted offended at her brand of honesty – she had the hardest time understanding why people didn’t just say what was on their minds. The other was never accused of not taking the hint, unlike Rachel, or missing a social cue. It was clear that when Santana offended someone, it was because she meant to.

 

Truth be told, Rachel’s personality was both amazing and terrifying to her friend. How the other girl was able to be so mature and still so innocent was something Santana couldn’t understand. But what really confounded her was Rachel’s complete disregard for what other people thought of her (barring critics and directors, of course).

 

And that made Rachel special. And it made Santana want to learn how to master that trick, too.  She asked the other girl and Rachel simply said “I don’t need them to tell me I’m special. I know I am. Just like I know you are.”

 

Rachel was open about everything – what she thought about other people, what she felt about a song or a show, what she liked about someone she knew and, above all, how much she adored Santana and the friendship she’d come to think of as one of the most reliable constants in her life.

 

Rachel didn’t even mind if sometimes, because of her own specialness, their friendship had to take a backseat. If there was one thing Rachel was sure of – she was special. She didn’t need anyone else to tell her. It was something she just knew about herself from the moment she understood what special meant.

 

Her best friend, on the other hand, always seemed to be looking for someone’s approval – her mom, her dad, definitely her abuela and, more often than not, the girls at the top of the social ladder.  Rachel consistently gave her friend signs of approval, but it never seemed to make up for what Santana sought and never seemed to get.

 

When it only scratched the surface of making Santana believe that she was an amazing, beautiful, talented, _special_ person, the other girl took a step back. She didn’t expect Santana to feel like she could shine brightly while in such close proximity to Rachel’s star. Her friend needed to shine on her own, away from the giant shadow that Rachel cast over her.

 

Santana stepped out of the shadow and their friendship found a new home there.  It was the least Rachel could do for the girl whose loyalty never wavered and who never once tried to change her.

 

She adored Santana for letting her use big words and for letting her wear her favourite polka-dotted dress and Mary Janes. She adored her for listening to her recite lines and for acting as though she actually cared about the shows she’d never see Rachel perform. She adored the way Santana’s eyes would grow wide when she would sing for her in the basement. She adored the way the other girl laughed, her hands clutched over her flat tummy and her eyes closed tightly, as though she was trying to keep her laughter from just exploding out of her body.

 

Rachel could never list the ways she adored Santana because every day she discovered something new to adore.

 

That didn’t mean she didn’t try. Her habit of complimenting Santana began quite early in their friendship. There was little Rachel didn’t find endearing about her friend. Compliments about everything from the girl’s penmanship to her hair flowed easily from Rachel’s tongue.  Having never suffered even a moment of real shyness, it never occurred to her _not_ to take every opportunity to let Santana know how special she was to her.

 

_"Okay," Rachel says as she sets a glass in front of her friend. "One iced tea for the prettiest girl I know." She smiles brightly and sits on the couch next to Santana._

_"Thanks, Rach." Santana picks up the glass but doesn't drink from it. Instead, she swipes her finger across the rim. "You kinda do that a lot, you know?"_

_She gazes nervously into Rachel’s eyes. She should be used to the other girl complimenting her by now, but, it still makes her nervous. It makes her heart race, and her stomach do that weird, butterfly thing._

_"Bring you iced tea?"_

_“No,” Santana says with a soft chuckle. "Say nice things - compliment me, I mean."_

_"Why shouldn't I?" the other girl asks innocently."I like you."_

_This was the opportunity Santana had been waiting for – and maybe dreading at the same time._

_Rachel had been saying that a lot lately - that she liked her. And the more she said it, the more Santana wondered if the other girl might have feelings for her. Real feelings. Of the romantic kind._

_Or maybe it was just wishful thinking._

_"Rachel," she begins, looking nervously into the other girl’s eyes, “What’s that mean? That you like me?”_

_Rachel tilts her head, not sure what part of 'I like you' her friend doesn't understand._

_"I mean that I like you," she repeats honestly. "I like being with you. And when you're not here, I think about you being here. Or when I’m away, I sometimes think about you coming to visit me in the city. And sometimes I think about kissing you, but most of the time I just think about being with you," she explains plainly._

_Santana's breath hitches at her friend's words. It makes her chest tighten at how easy it is for Rachel to simply say what she feels. She envies it._

_She swallows roughly and nods as her heart pounds so hard in her chest that she can feel it pulsing in her ears. It takes her a few seconds to whisper back, "Me too."_

_"I know," Rachel says, her bright smile never faltering. "But I don't expect you to compliment me all the time," she adds. "Unless I've just sung. Then it would be practically unheard of for me not to get some sort of praise."_

_Santana shakes her head and chuckles. "I don't know how you do it."_

_"I've had a lot of experience, actually. And an excellent vocal coach," Rachel informs her friend. "You’re also a very talented singer. Sure, you lack my training but even without it, you could be quite a force to be reckoned with. But I don’t want to talk about that right now. I'd rather talk about us liking each other." She hops in her seat, her eyes lighting up. "Do you want to be my girlfriend?"_

_Santana can’t contain her smile. She tilts her head to the side and lets herself appreciate Rachel’s cuteness._

_It doesn’t take long for that to pass and for fear to kick in. She nervously catches her bottom lip between her teeth before answering, "I ..." She swallows roughly and inhales sharply. "I don't know about that, Rach."_

_"Well," Rachel begins thoughtfully. "I haven't had a girlfriend before. Or been anyone's girlfriend," she says. "But I suspect I'd be a superb one. I've seen every Meg Ryan, Julia Roberts and Sandra Bullock movie. So, I’ve learned from the best about how to proceed in romantic situations."_

_The smile is back because leave it to Rachel to think that romantic comedies are a how-to dating guide. Santana carefully takes Rachel's hand and gently says, "I'm sure you’d be great."_

_"If I'm not, you could break up with me, I guess," the smaller girl offers. "That's usually when someone learns a big lesson, makes a grand gesture and gets the love of their life back. So, it would most likely be a temporary break-up, anyway."_

_Rachel pauses and presses her lips together. "You wouldn't let distance keep us apart, would you? Because I might be doing a workshop this summer in the city."_

_Santana blinks a couple times, unsure of how to answer her friend’s question. Any answer would imply that she’s on board with Rachel’s crazy idea for them to become girlfriends. That’s not what Santana had in mind. Or maybe it would be if she didn’t know better - if she was Rachel and lived in a world where these things were okay._

_"Rachel, it's - " She lets out a shaky breath. "It’s kind of a lot to take in and, it’s more than a little scary ...”_

_"Why?" Rachel wrinkles her nose cutely, her head tilting in confusion as she searches Santana’s eyes._

_"Because, " she starts with a frown. “Because it isn't right. I mean, that's what everyone else will think."_

_Rachel pouts and looks down at her hand in Santana's. "It feels right to me."_

_Santana nods. "I know it does. For me, too."_

_"Are you scared that I'll hurt you?" the other girl asks. "Because I would_ never _do that. You're my best friend. And, besides my dads, you’re the most important person in my life. I'd never hurt you, I promise."_

_Santana shakes her head and smiles softly. "No, I'm not scared of that. I trust you, Rach."_

_The other girl's smile widens again. "Okay, well," she straightens her back. "Then we should be girlfriends," she says, punctuating her statement with a firm nod._

_"What about everyone else? The school? My parents?" She looks into her friend's eyes._

_"What about them? Why does it have to be their business what we do? We’re not hurting anyone."_

_"Because it's just how things are, Rach. Everyone will make it their business. And if the whole school knows, my parents will eventually find out..." She frowns deeply and looks away._

_"We've made it through this far, Santana," Rachel says gently. "No one even knows that we're friends, right?"_

_She glances at their hands. "What are you saying? That you'd be okay with this,” she gestures vaguely in the air between them with her free hand, “that_ we _can be a secret?”_

_"For now, I guess," the other girl answers. " I certainly don't want to get married in secret or anything. Raise our kids in shadow ..." she trails off with a teasing giggle._

_Santana's eyes widen. "Oh wow, marriage and kids, huh?" She chuckles nervously._

_Rachel nods. "Some day." She tightens her grip on Santana's hand and says, "But not for a while. There's a lot we have to accomplish first."_

_She nods along with her. "Yeah, definitely."_

_"I don't think we can officially be girlfriends until we kiss," the other girl informs Santana. "That's how it goes in the movies. They have feelings for each other the whole time but it's not until they kiss that they are considered officially together."_

_Santana smiles shyly and glances down, before taking a deep breath and looking up into Rachel's eyes. "Do you wa – should I kiss you? Or do you want to kiss me?"_

_"We could kiss each other," Rachel offers. "Fifty, fifty. Don't do the_ Hitch _thing where you go ninety and then wait for my ten. Fifty, fifty is nice and equal and I didn’t really like that movie very much, anyway."_

_“Okay,” the other girl whispers and inhales deeply, steeling herself for what she’s about to do. With her eyes closed, she slowly leans forward._

_Meeting her halfway, Rachel puts her hand on her soon-to-be-official-girlfriend's shoulder and closes her eyes. Her lips curl at the corner after they brush against Santana's for the first time. Keeping her eyes closed, she rests her forehead against the other girl's, a content smile on her face._

_Santana opens her eyes just long enough to check the reality of the situation. Her eyes slip closed again and it isn't long before her other hand cups Rachel's face and she’s leaning in again to softly press her lips to the other girl's._

_Rachel leans back minutely only to move forward not even a half of a second later to leave lingering kisses, accented with small pecks, against Santana's mouth. When she pulls away long enough to say something, she admits, "I've been thinking about doing that for a long time. Only it's even nicer than I thought it would be ... "_

_Santana keeps her hand on Rachel's cheek and strokes it with her thumb. "Me too." She doesn't wait for Rachel to respond. Instead, she leans in again and captures Rachel's bottom lip between her own._

 

"...you know what..?" Santana looks into Holly's eyes. "I don't even remember how it started. I told you, it really didn't mean anything." She gives Holly as much of a smile as she can muster before sipping her drink again. 


	6. Chapter 6

 

"Holly, I love you. You know that. But you have _got_ to figure out a way to get them off my back.” Santana holds her cell phone to her ear as she walks into the theatre. With a furrowed brow and deep scowl she asks, “What if I had Maya with me?"

 

From her seat in the front row, Rachel hears the door and, turning, she frowns when she sees the look on the other woman's face.

 

"Yeah, I know." It's quiet for a second before Santana continues, "I'll pick Maya up once I'm finished, okay? Thanks for looking after her."

 

Though it’s none of her business – she knows that it’s not – Rachel is curious to know what was said to make that soft smile appear on Santana’s previously angry face. She forces her attention back to the stage and does her best not to eavesdrop on the half of the conversation she can hear.

 

"Yeah, yeah. Alright, I gotta go. See you after rehearsal. Bye." As Santana reaches the front row, she hangs up and notices that she’s not alone in the auditorium. "Oh, hey."

 

"Hey," Rachel greets her. "Everything okay?"

 

Santana sighs and shakes her head as she sits down beside Rachel. "Fucking paparazzi…"

 

"Oh." The other woman frowns and hands Santana a bottle of water.

 

As of yet, Rachel had been very good about not asking about what was going on with the paparazzi - or with the situation that sparked the hurricane of media attention. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't curious, but she also knew that the private details of Santana's life weren't her business. If the woman offered it up, she'd listen; but, she wasn't about to open a door that, more likely than not, should remain closed.

 

"Do you want me to see if Arthur can beef up security? I'm sure he wouldn't mind doing it for a little while. At least until all of this dies down," Rachel suggests softly.

 

Santana shakes her head. "No, it's - it's fine. I've already talked to Holly about it. She'll deal with it." By the way Rachel worded her sentence, it’s obvious to Santana that the other woman knows why she is suddenly the focus of so much media attention.

 

She bites her lip thoughtfully and asks, "Guess you know what's going on, huh?"

 

Rachel shakes her head. "I don't claim to know anything based on what the media says about anyone.” Her brows furrow as she speaks, her eyes not meeting Santana's. "It's all about blame and who's right and who's wrong. Someone gets vilified and someone is practically canonized. And all of the judgment that goes with it when it's really no one's business ... "

 

Santana nods in understanding. "Well, yeah. But, uh, " she pauses and glances down, her lips pressed into a frown, "You obviously know something happened."

 

"Obviously," Rachel agrees. She turns her head and squints into Santana's eyes as she asks, "Is this something we're allowed to talk about? I’m not really sure what’s off-limits or out of bounds or … whatever."

 

She shrugs. "You're my friend - right?"

 

"I'd like to be."

 

Santana swallows and nods softly. “We're uh ..." she pauses to let out a long breath. "Matt and I are - we're getting a divorce."

 

"Oh, I'm sorry," Rachel says and winces sympathetically. "I understand how hard it is when someone you love does something that makes it impossible to be together." She looks down at her lap where her fingers are twisting together.

 

Santana furrows her brow and tilts her head as she considers Rachel’s words. Her brows push up toward her hairline as she gets a sneaking suspicion that the other woman is referring to their time together in high school.

 

"What does that mean? Are you – was that about me? About us?"

 

Rachel inhales sharply and quickly shakes her head. "You? Us?" she tries to laugh it off. "No, no. I wouldn't - I didn't mean ..." She splutters a few times before taking a deep breath. "It's not important, anyway."

 

She sits quietly for a moment, not allowing herself to look in Santana's direction. "So, do you love him? I mean, still? Do you love him even with all of this stuff?"

 

Santana purses her lips and stares in front of her, not able to look at Rachel. She knows she has a choice. She can either push Rachel to talk about what she’s sure neither of them wants to address or she can let it go. The latter was never a strong suit for Santana. In the interest of keeping a peaceful work environment and with the hopes of not completely extinguishing her as of yet rekindled friendship with Rachel, she gives in to the other woman the subject change.

 

"He's my husband. I wouldn't have married him if I didn't love him," she states almost stubbornly.

 

Rachel nods. "No, of course you wouldn't," she says softly. "I really am sorry he hurt you. If there's something I can do - though I don't know what. I'm not really a media darling or a very large draw for the paparazzi ..."

 

"S'whatever.” Santana shrugs before admitting, “It's Maya I'm worried about, you know?"

 

"Does she know?"

 

Santana glances down and shakes her head. "We're waiting for Matt to get the chance to fly in so we can tell her together. But," she pauses, blinking as she frowns. "I mean, it's in every magazine. It's not easy keeping her away from that."

 

"The good thing about little kids, " Rachel begins, smiling gently, "is their amazing resilience. If he's coming out to talk to her, then it's clear you're not letting this get in the way of their relationship. I don't know about these things, really, but it seems to me knowing that her parents love her that much is going to be so very helpful."

 

"I'd never take Maya away from her father. But, I mean, I did ask for full custody - not to keep her away from him. It just seemed the best thing to do." Santana tugs her lip between her teeth and allows her gaze to settle on Rachel’s.

 

Rachel nods. "Well, really, who wants their kid around Sugar Motta?" The woman grimaces and wrinkles her nose as though there is an unpleasant odor in the room. Any chance of pretending that she doesn’t know what the media is saying flies out the window with the mention of Santana’s husband’s mistress.

 

Santana chuckles weakly. "Yeah…"

 

"I'm sorry this is happening to you," Rachel finally says after a moment of silence. "And Maya."

 

"Thanks. I guess I just need time to figure out what to do next, you know?"

 

The other woman pats Santana's hand. "You'll figure it out. You were always really good at figuring out what you needed to do." She gives her a little smile before looking away.

 

And just like that, the thing she thought she could let go comes back. Bigger - and with a giant neon sign pointing at it.

 

Santana frowns and leans forward to look into Rachel's eyes. "What's that supposed to mean, exactly?"

 

Rachel laughs nervously. “I didn't mean anything bad, Santana," she says. "I just meant that you were always good at reading situations and finding the path of least resistance. And, in this case with Maya, it's a really good thing."

 

She tilts her head, pinning Rachel with her stare. "And when exactly has it ever been a bad thing?"

 

"I didn't say it was a bad thing ..." Rachel shakes her head and sighs. "You know what? I don't want to argue with you, okay? Just forget it."

 

"Look, I get it, okay? You're still upset or whatever about what went down in high school." Santana takes a quick breath before she continues, "But you shouldn't be. It didn't really mean anything, right?"

 

Rachel scoffs. "I'm not _still_ upset about high school. We were kids, Santana." She frowns and looks away, not willing to look into the other woman's eyes.  While she’s sure she’s over what happened between them, that doesn’t make it sting any less to hear the other woman reiterate what Rachel already knew – that it didn’t mean anything to Santana.

 

"Well, it kinda sounds like you are."

 

"Well, I'm not."

 

"Right, because that's not an answer my daughter would give or anything." She rolls her eyes, saying, "You sound like a child, Rachel."

 

The other woman lets out an exasperated sigh.

 

"We were _kids_ , Santana," she says. "And I was sheltered and thought the world was perfect and people were always good. I obviously had a lot to learn about friendship and all it entailed."

 

She shakes her head and opens her bottled water. Before she takes a sip, "I've grown up since then and have learned otherwise."

 

"I did what I had to do."

 

Santana isn’t sure why it’s important to say it, but it is. It’s important for Rachel to get that much – that she was only doing what she had to do. She can’t give the other woman more than that so she turns her attention to the empty stage. It’s a better option than letting Rachel’s eyes meet hers. She’s certain that they'd give her away.

 

"What does that even mean?" Rachel asks, narrowing her eyes in confusion. "You did what you had to do? You didn't _have_ to do anything. You could have just said 'thanks, but no thanks' and let us go back to being best friends. I would have understood."

 

Except Santana couldn’t do that. Maybe it would have been easy for Rachel to slip back into their old roles but it wasn’t for her. She’d open a door she shouldn’t have and it wasn’t enough to simply shut it, again. She had to tear down the whole house.

 

Literally.

 

_From where her father stands in the kitchen, his shirt sleeves rolled up and elbow-deep in dishwashing suds, Santana's father bops his head to the beat of the pop music blaring from the kitchen radio. He was never one who believed that not knowing the words should hinder his desire to sing along._

_In a soft baritone, he hums and_ doot do _s his way through the latest Kelly Clarkson single._

_With a soft sigh, Santana walks into the kitchen, the bowl of ice cream she was eating still half full. It really wasn’t like her not to polish off every drop in the bowl. Ice cream was the only snack she allowed herself, what with Sue having put all the Cheerios on a strict diet._  
  
Slowing walking over to where her father waits, his hands hidden in the soapy water, Santana places the bowl down on the counter. “One more,” she says with a frown. "I'm not hungry." 

_"But it's ice cream, angel,” he argues pleasantly. "It doesn't even take up any belly room." He nudges the bowl with a soapy finger. "Sure you don't want to finish it?"_

_Santana shakes her head and leans against the counter, her eyes drifting to the kitchen window. From where she’s standing, she can see the tree house her father built in the garden. It's old and could use a coat of paint, but it’s still sturdy._

_She blinks a few times, not able to look at the old house without thinking of the times she spent in it with her best friend … with her girlfriend … with Rachel. She swallows roughly and glances at her father._

_"I don't want it, anymore."_

_“If you’re sure.” Her father takes the bowl and, with another quick glance at Santana, raises his brows to double-check her answer._

_She offers him a sad smile and another shake of her head. Her eyes flick to the window and then back to her father. "Papa?"_

_"Yes, my darling daughter who must be ill if she's turning down ice cream?" he replies. Though he wears a teasing smirk, the one Santana has adopted as her own, his eyes are soft with concern._

_Santana's absolutely not in the mood for being teased – in good natured or any other way - and she feels like her father should have recognized that._

_Rolling her eyes, she stubbornly notes. “I didn’t mean the ice cream.”_

_Her father’s eyes widen as he looks into the side of the sink he’s using to rinse the dishes and he sees a blob of melting ice cream making its way to the drain. “Angel … you said… ”_

_“No, I don’t want the stupid ice cream. But,” Santana pauses her explanation and blinks a few times, steeling herself. “If you're not doing anything tomorrow afternoon, I’d like you to take down the tree house? I don't need it anymore."_

_The plate her father was scrubbing slips from his fingers and bangs against the bottom of the sink. He frowns as he picks it up to check for cracks and asks, "Tear it down? What do you mean tear it down?"_

_Santana tries to keep her expression neutral as she shrugs. "Tree houses are for kids. And I'm not a kid anymore, Papa."_

_"Well, no, but," he lowers the plate into the soapy water and turns off the faucet. As he dries his hands, he continues, "You weren't a kid last week when you and Rachel were reading the magazines you stole – borrowed -  from Mami's table."_

_Santana frowns at her father and looks into his eyes as she crosses her arms in front of her. "Yeah, well, I can see that now. And I don't want it anymore. Can you please tear it down?"_

_Her father's eyes search hers for a long moment before he hesitantly asks, "Okay, what's going on? Did something happen with Rachel?"_

_Santana's expression changes instantly at her father's words. "Why would something have happened with Rachel? She has nothing to do with it.” She narrows her eyes, still frowning, and lets out a little scoff. “Tree houses are childish and I'm not a child anymore. I don't need it. That’s all."_

_"Okay, I get that," he says, putting his hands up in front of him. "But, childish as it might seem right now, it's also where you two spend nearly every waking moment. Does Rachel know you want to get rid of it?"_

_"It's_ mine _, Papa. If_ Rachel _wants to spend her life in a tree house, then her fathers can build her one." She looks away from father, not giving him a chance to see in her eyes everything that she’s not saying._

_"I guess," he slowly agrees._

_He narrows his eyes as he studies his daughter. Her refusal to meet his eyes doesn't go unnoticed._

_"But, you know," he tries again. "Rachel doesn’t get to be a kid all that often, right? And sure, I guess her dads could make her a tree house. But c'mon." His voice is soft and teasing as he says, "Could it ever compare to the masterpiece created by these hands?" He holds up his hands, his fingers a little wrinkled from washing the dishes._

_Having had enough of the conversation, Santana shakes her head, crosses her arms over her chest and tries to tell herself that this isn’t about Rachel. She takes a deep breath and looks at her father seriously before reiterating, “I just -_ please _, take it down …”_

_After a deep sigh, he agrees. "After I finish up in here, I'll see about getting the waste bins ordered and look for my demo stuff out of the garage." He pulls her into a hug and, after kissing the top of her head, he asks, "You wanna go say goodbye to the old place, angel?"_

_Santana lets out a shaky breath as she holds onto her father and shakes her head. "I've already said my goodbye."_

 

Rachel heaves a sigh, takes a calming breath and continues, "Look, it doesn't matter. It's ancient history." She caps her water bottle with an air of finality. "It doesn't have to affect our working relationship or, you know, if you need a friend. It's the past, right? No big deal. Moved on. Didn't matter. All of that stuff." The more she talks, the more it sounds like she’s talking herself into believing her own words.

 

Santana glances at Rachel and reminds her, "I know you, Rach." She forces her eyes to the stage in front of her. "When you're nervous, you babble - "

 

"You _knew_ me," Rachel quickly corrects her. "You don't know me now."

 

"Seems to me that you haven't really changed that much."

 

"It'd be very sad it I didn't." Rachel sets her water on the floor next to her bag, her tone distanced and cold. "I'd like to think I know a little more than that naïve little home-schooled girl with a crush on her best friend."

 

"I'm sorry.” Santana takes a deep breath and sighs before turning to face her friend. “I just - I'm in a bad mood and took it out on you."

 

"It's fine." Rachel says dismissively, her hand waving vaguely as though brushing something away.  "It's fine. Don't worry about it," she adds, pursing her lips and staring straight ahead to the stage.

 

Santana tilts her head as she looks at Rachel. "Rach …"

 

"It’s fine.” the other woman repeats firmly and evenly.

 

"I - " Santana swallows roughly. " – just – I’m sorry."

 

"There's nothing to be sorry for," Rachel replies. She picks up her water bottle as she stands and looks into Santana's eyes. "It didn't mean anything, right?" 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> Good things have been going on for my RP partner - and that means that there's less time for us to work on this together. Asking for patience as I get edits together for approval and all of that good stuff. Work schedules on their own are tough but then you add in an eight hour time difference and - you get it. Thanks to all who have been patient thus far.
> 
> Also. We know you want some real meat to sink your teeth into. We get it. But we've got a story here that we want to tell and that might mean a little bit of character or relationship exploration before much action. We'll get there; I promise.

Santana rubs Maya's back and kisses the side of her head. The little girl rests her head against her mother's lap, a small frown pulling at the corners of her mouth, as she tries to pay attention to Up! Looking with worried eyes at her daughter, Santana asks, "Did the medicine make you feel any better, baby girl?"

Using the least amount of energy necessary, the little girl just barely shakes her head before trying to snuggle even closer to her mother. "My belly hurts. It's like this ..." She holds up one hand like a claw and moves her fingers around, "Errrr."

Santana frowns and clicks her tongue. "Oh, my poor little munchkin." She runs her fingers softly through Maya's hair, every so often stopping to roll a curl around her finger.

"I'm not gonna throw up," the girl says sagely. "I'm too hungry for that. And it's icky." Just as Maya pulls a grimace, scrunching up her nose and sticking out her tongue, a shrill ring tone cuts through the apartment.

"Well, just in case, okay? Let me know if you're gonna be sick." Santana pats Maya's shoulder, letting her know that she needs to get up. After a kiss to the little girl's forehead, Santana leans over and picks up her cell phone from the coffee table.

She blinks a few times when she sees the name on the screen and then takes a deep breath just before hitting the accept call button. "Hey."

Rachel sputters for a moment, having not expected Santana to pick up right away. She was much more nervous about making this phone call than she should have been. She reminds herself that she's had this very same phone call with Blaine and that it's completely acceptable for colleagues to talk on the phone during non-work hours.

"Uh, hey. I'm - it's Rachel."

Santana purses her lips together. "Yeah, I uh - I know. Artie gave me your number and, y'know, caller ID and all that jazz."

"Oh, right - okay," the other woman says before clearing her throat. "Well, I was just calling because we have that spot coming up and I don't know if, while sharing with you my contact information, Art happened to tell you what it is exactly he wants us to say."

Maya looks up and whispers, "Can I have some crackers? Or some ice cream? Oh! Or jelly beans?"

Pressing her hand between the phone and her mouth, Santana whispers, "No candy."

"… and, as you'll probably learn, when you work for a long running staged show, there are specific points that directors want put out at different times to entice a prospective audience …"

Santana winces as she realizes that she has no idea what Rachel is rattling on about. Holding up her finger to her lips, she tries to indicate to Maya to be quiet for a minute while she's on the phone.

"Sorry, Rachel. What did you say?"

Maya climbs onto Santana's lap and whines softly, "But m'hungry, mama."

Rachel bites her lip when she hears Santana shush the little girl. "I called at a bad time, didn't I? Do you want me to let you go?"

"No, it's fine, Rachel. I'm a mother; I can multi-task. Now, what's going on?" When her daughter gives her puppy eyes, she sighs into the phone and says, "Wait. Just – hang on a sec."

"Oh, you poor, neglected child." She runs her fingers through Maya's hair as she smiles softly at her. "What do you want to eat?"

"Chicken doodle soup?" Maya asks hopefully.

"Baby, Mama doesn't have chicken soup. What about something else?" Santana takes the girl off her lap and places her gently on the couch before heading to the kitchen to see what she can offer the girl in place of soup.

Rachel feels somewhat like an interloper at this point. Santana isn't an old friend and it certainly isn't her place to listen in on these little domestic moments. The other woman's private life, she reminds herself, is none of her business nor would it be prudent for their work relationship for her to make it so.

"Are you sure I shouldn't just call back later?" she asks, almost hoping that the other woman will take her up on the offer.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Santana reiterates. Her head tilts when she hears a bit of something – nervousness maybe? – in Rachel's voice. "Everything okay?"

"Of course, why wouldn't it be ..." Rachel's answer trails off. She's surely not going to tell Santana that she is doing her best to keep their interactions professional and not to let personal issues color their working relationship. That would, of course, mean admitting that there are personal issues and Rachel isn't about to do that.

Because there aren't – so, overhearing snippets of the life that Santana has away from the stage isn't a big deal. She nods, trying to convince herself that talking to Santana now is no different from calling Blaine at home.

"But, anyway," she says, trying to get back to business. "Art isn't giving any direction for the interview and I don't really know what the point is. Are we selling your guest appearance? Are we selling the show in general? He's just not giving me anything to work. He just keeps telling me to be my usual charming self. As if I could help doing that ..."

Maya shuffles around on the couch until she's sitting on her knees with her arms hanging over the back rest. Watching her mother stare into the fridge, Maya pouts and whines, "I like soup, Mama."

Santana takes a deep breath. "Maya, there's no soup in the house. Pick something else, baby." Sighing, she tries to focus on the conversation at hand. "Does he usually give you direction? Because if he does and he's not doing it now, then I don't really know what the deal is. Maybe he thinks we can hook an audience on our own."

"He doesn't think we need to have an agenda. He wants our duet to speak for the show and then we can talk about - whatever, I guess." It's clear that Rachel isn't on board with this promotional tactic. She's never been one for implying anything and subtlety wasn't her strong suit – a good, explicit "come see our amazing new co-star" would be her vote.

Maya crawls off the couch and, with the blanket still wrapped mostly around her, joins her mother in the kitchen.

"Okay, I get that, but Holly's going to want to have a list of potential questions,"Santana says knowingly. There's no way Holly's going to let her go on a talk show, her first since the media frenzy, without making sure that everyone is prepared and on the same page. And that means no mention of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, his mistress or the little girl the press is trying to put in the middle. "And anything to do with my personal life is strictly off-limits."

Maya's eyes light up as though she's just had the best idea. She tugs on her mother's hand to get her attention and, pretending to be a little mindful about the fact that her mom is on the phone, the little girl whispers, "We can buy soup at the store."

Santana crouches down in front of her daughter and tilts the phone away from her mouth."Maya, baby, do you remember what I told you about the people outside? It's not a good idea to go out right now, okay?"

"But I like soup ..." the little girl says dejectedly.

Rachel's bottom lip juts out as Maya's tiny voice reaches her ears. "Santana?" she asks. "Do you want me to bring you some soup for Maya?" She's not even done getting the question out before she's rolling her eyes and silently berating herself for making the offer.

It's not like Rachel's a family friend – or any kind of friend at all. She's just someone who used to know Santana and who now works with her. It's a truth that's reinforced when the other woman replies.

"What?" Santana's voice raises in pitch a little, as though she's surprised by the offer. With a little chuckle, she quickly says, "No, it's fine. I couldn't ask you to do that."

Santana stands and lifts Maya to rest her on her hip. "We'll pick something from the fridge, okay? Or, oh, maybe pasta, huh?"

Maya pouts miserably at her mother. "No. Pasta isn't for when you're sick."

"She's sick?" Rachel asks, unable to keep the concern out of her voice.

Santana sighs. "Yeah. She picked up a little bug, and," she pauses, raising her brow and looking at her daughter, "she gets real fussy when she doesn't feel well."

"M'not!" The little girl wiggles in Santana's arms until she's closer to the phone and, with her mouth as close as possible, she repeats, "M'not fussy!"

Rachel laughs softly. "Y'know, I was about to order something from Katz's. I really don't mind getting something for her if you want." She stops talking and inhales slowly, wondering if she should just let it go. It wasn't like Santana hadn't already rejected her offer.

Santana stops to think about it for a second. She knows her daughter isn't going to give up. And, as much as she wants to give her little girl what she wants – soup's not an entirely unreasonable request – she's not very comfortable with asking Rachel to do something.

But, she reminds herself, she didn't ask; Rachel offered. She figures it's a good sign if the other woman is willing to go a little bit out of her way for Santana. Their last meeting was a little tense and it took most of rehearsal for Rachel to warm up to her, again. She figured that, if Rachel is willing to extend an olive branch and make a go of being friendly, then the least she could do is to let her.

Sighing, Santana and holds Maya close to her. "If you're sure you really wouldn't mind… I mean, there's paparazzi waiting downstairs. I normally would just pop out, but-"

"I wouldn't have offered if I minded," the other woman replies. "And I don't know how you expect Maya to get better if she doesn't have Katz's kosher chidken soup. It's better than any medicine you could possibly be giving her."

As if to punctuate Rachel's statement, Maya starts coughing. Her little face is screwed up in discomfort as she cups her hands over her mouth like her mama showed her.

Santana pouts, waiting for her little girl to settle again. She places a little kiss on her forehead and, with her mind made up, she says, "Okay, that – it's really nice of you and, uh - that would really help us, Rachel. Thank you."

"Can I get you anything else? Rachel asks before giggling softly. "Wow, I haven't said that since I pretended to be a waitress one summer."

Santana raises her brow and chuckles. "You were a waitress? You?"

"Oh, no. Nono, no," Rachel says quickly. "I just pretended to be one. The diner manager refused to pay me."

"Huh..?" Santana furrows her brow. "You know what..? Just tell me when you get here, okay..?"

Less than thirty minutes later, Rachel weaves her way around a few men with cameras. She tries to keep her head down and not face any of the cameras head-on. Though there aren't many paparazzi who are concerned with Broadway actresses, she knows that anyone visiting - or thought to be visitng – Santana would immediately be pulled into the buzz. She makes her way through the crown and slips into the apartment building lobby.

"Uhm, hi, I wasn't sure I was going to get through there." she says blowing out a relieved breath and holding her hand up to her heart. She gives the man at the reception desk a genial smile. "I'm Rachel Berry. I believe Santana Lo-no, um, Rutherford? Santana Rutherford is waiting for me."

George looks at Rachel with concern. "Did you walk through that all by yourself? You really should be more careful, Miss. Those guys can get real aggressive sometimes and, if you don't mind my saying, you're just a tiny, little slip of a thing. When they start a stampede, they don't pay attention to anything but what they see in those cameras, y'know? Oh, I could tell you stories … "

Rachel pushes her hair behind her ear and nods politely. Holding up the deli bag, she says, "Unless they want to steal a sick little girl's soup, there's no reason my presence should be stampede-worthy."

"Katz's deli?" George's smile brightens. "Only the best for Miss Maya! Go on up, Mrs. Rutherford told me she was expecting you. Number twelve on the sixth floor."

"Thank you," she pauses just long enough to read his name badge, "George."

The elevator ride is quick and it's not long before Rachel is juggling deli bags in an effort to free a hand to knock on the door. Eventually, after hanging the larger bag from her arm and hugging the smaller one to her chest, she's able to free herself enough to make her presence known. Her hand hangs in the air for a short moment when she sees taped to the door an index card with the words "Our Home" traced over in purple crayon.

Rachel takes it for what it is – a reminder that she's about to walk into Santana's personal life, willingly. She steels herself with a deep breath and raps on the door.

"There's your soup, baby girl." Santana picks Maya up from the couch and rests her on her hip as she walks over to the door and opens it. When she comes face-to-face with Rachel, she gives her a warm smile. "Thanks so much for doing this. I totally owe you." She opens the door wider and steps back to let Rachel past.

"You don't owe me anything," Rachel argues, her eyes settling on the little girl in her friend's arms. "I'm happy to do it."

"Did you make me soup?" Maya asks, clearly impressed.

Santana chuckles playfully as she closes the door and makes her way to the kitchen area. "Rachel doesn't cook, Maya."

The other woman gasps. "I can cook! I just ..." she pauses and sticks out her chin, regally. "I choose not to."

Santana nods. "Uh huh, sure." She takes one of the bags from Rachel and smiles at her. "So, what did you get?"

"Soup, as promised."

Smelling the soup in the bag, Maya inhales deeply, sending her into a little coughing fit.

Rachel winces and starts to reach out to pat her but stops short and gives the girl a sympathetic pout, instead. "Um, and also a sandwich for you. You're not vegetarian, are you? I just kind of ..." she bites her lip before continuing, "… you didn't used to be so, I didn't consider not getting you meat."

Santana shakes her head. "No, I'm not. Are you still a vegan?"

"Mostly." Rachel places the bags on the counter and pulls out a small, rounded container. "Soup," she says, holding it up for Maya to smell.

Santana places the other bag on the counter. "Mostly?"

The other woman nods and continues to unpack the food. "On my own, I am. But if I go out and there aren't any vegan options or if I can't make changes to a dish to make it vegan, then ..." she shrugs. "I'm a diva but - not really."

She shakes her head. "I never thought you were a diva." Santana smiles warmly before turning her attention to Maya. "Soup in a cup, or a bowl?"

"In that." The little girl points to the to-go container. "Like a picnic, Mama!"

Rachel bites the edge of her lip and giggles. "You bring to-go food to picnics, Santana?"

She glances at Rachel and gasps. "I do not! I always cook."

"Not what I heard ..." the other woman teases and points to the little girl.

"Mama," Maya whines and wiggles. "Lemme down, 'kay? I wanna sit on the floor now."

Santana raises her brow. "On the floor? Like a real picnic, huh?" She turns to Rachel. "Would you mind, uh, we don't normally but, you wanna join us on the floor in front of the TV for a picnic?" Pretending to try to entice Rachel, Santana offered, "We have soup, sandwiches and animal cookies."

"Well," the other woman jokes as she winks at the little girl in front of her. "You know I've never been able to turn down animal cookies."

Maya squints at the woman, not sure what to make of her. "I get the elephants. Elephants are my favorite."

Santana tilts her head and gives Maya a warning look. "What did Mama tell you about sharing, honey?"

"Mama," the little girl whines before sniffing miserably. "I am sharing. I get the elephants and she can have the rest!"

Rachel stifles a giggle. "You know, I was always partial to the giraffes, so ..." She wrinkles her nose at Maya. "I think it'll be fine."

Poking the little girl's side, Santana says, "You're lucky you're cute, mija." She places her down on the ground. "Why don't you and Rachel take the food over and get a blanket while Mama gets us drinks, okay? A juice box?"

"Yes, please," Maya answers, putting her hand out for Rachel to take. "I know where the blanket is. But you have to get it down."

Rachel takes a few containers in one hand, cradling them to her side, and slips her hand into the little girl's grasp. As Maya leads her away from the kitchen, Rachel looks over her shoulder and says, "And yes, please. For me, too. If you don't mind."

Santana tilts her head to the side and raises her brow at Rachel before chuckling and making her way to the fridge. She opens it and grabs three strawberry and apple juice boxes from it.

"Do you want to see my room?" Maya asks suddenly.

Rachel blinks a few times and then asks, "Maybe after we've eaten?"

"Do you like soup? Or princesses? Or crickets?" Before Rachel can answer even one of the questions, Maya stops in front of a cabinet. Pointing at the cabinet door, she says, "Get the purple one. It's pur-ple and it has stars on it."

Once Rachel has gotten the blanket and has been led, once again by the hand, back to the living room, she looks intently at Maya. "For the record," she says confidently, "I do like soup, I think princesses are fine and, as long as they aren't in my apartment, I don't mind crickets." She nods pretty sure she gave an answer for each question.

Santana walks over to both of them. "I like princesses, too. But not crickets." She chuckles and takes a container from Rachel's arm as it's about to fall.

"Thanks," she says. "And I don't know, they're like musicians of the bug world." Rachel unfolds the blanket and lays it out before kneeling and smoothing some of the larger wrinkles away. "I feel like it gives them a little something over other bugs when determining likeability."

"What about puppies? Do you like puppies?" Maya doesn't wait for the blanket to be fixed before plopping herself right in the middle of it.

Santana closes her eyes and shakes her head before taking a calming breath and looking at Maya. "We're not getting a puppy, mija." She joins her daughter on the blanket and hands her a juice box before placing the other and the container on the blanket as well. "You're not old enough to look after a puppy."

The little girl pouts and she crosses her arms over her chest, making a little bit of juice dribble out of the straw. Then the girl's eyes light up and she asks, "Do you like kitties?"

Rachel laughs loudly and then snaps her mouth closed and tries to put on a serious face.

Santana intends to glare at Rachel, but somhow she ends up chuckling and simply shaking her head. "I don't get how she's this smart. Kid's wise beyond her years."

"Right, it's a mystery where that came from ..." the other woman teases, rolling her eyes. Rachel sits down, curling her legs behind her. "So, this indoor picnic thing? Is it a tradition or something you've had to come up with because of what's going on -" she nods her head toward the door, "- out there?"

Santana's mood immediately changes and she purses her lips together. "I can't get them to leave. And when I do, they just end up coming back. Sometimes it's only quiet down there for a couple of hours – not even long enough for me to get anything done."

"It's so surprising." Rachel breaks a piece of bread off of her roll. "Usually these things blow over. Maybe you get a few stragglers looking for something but, a crowd that size? Usually by now they're onto the next story."

Santana chuckles weakly. "I am the next story." She glances down as she unwraps her sandwich.

Rachel furrows her brows. "What do you mean?"

"Mama?" Maya interrupts, her voice wary. "There's something floating in my soup. I think it's a golf ball."

"I don't think it's a golf ball, sweetie." Santana says with a wink before turning to Rachel and sighing. "I can't tell you, but..." She takes her phone out of her bra, spends a few moments fiddling around with it before passing it to Rachel.

Rachel takes the phone, narrowing her eyes as she reads the gossip article.

"It's a squishy golf ball ..."

" ... it's a matzoh ball, sweetie," Rachel corrects distractedly, her eyes still on the phone. "Try it and," she looks up at Santana with wide eyes, "they broke up?"

Santana shrugs. "Apparently."

Rachel blows out a hard breath and hands the phone back to her friend. "I know you love him and, you know, I don't even know him, but…" She shakes her head. "Maya doesn't get her brains from him."

After putting her phone back into her bra, Santana picks up her sandwich again and, with a careless shrug, says, "Yeah, well, he can do whatever he wants, now."

"I get that but you'd think that doing whatever he wants would be, I don't know, being with the person he ..." Rachel side-eyes Maya, who is poking the matzoh ball with her spoon, and whispers, "you know."

Santana smiles sadly. "I don't think it was about her." She takes a bite of her sandwich.

"Regardless. If you walk away, you walk away. He didn't." Rachel inhales deeply, shaking her head. "He very publicly threw away what he had for something he didn't even intend to keep." She continues shaking her head as her jaw clenches.

Santana doesn't look at Rachel. "Like I said, it wasn't about her."

"Then he shouldn't have been with her."

Santana lifts her head and tilts it as she looks into Rachel's eyes. "You make it sound much simpler than it really is and you sound much more worked up about this than I am."

Rachel looks down at her hands. "I'm sorry. You're right." She shakes her head, her eyes on her food. "It's none of my business."

"Mmmm" Maya waves her spoon at her mother. "S'gd!" Her cheek is puffed out, full of matzoh ball as she tries to talk.

"You like it, huh? Rachel told you it'd be good …" Santana's gentle smile doesn't fade even as her glance moves from her daughter to Rachel. "And, it's fine. Just..." She glances at Maya before taking a deep breath.

"We can - probably should, really - talk about something else," Rachel suggests. "You're probably sick of talking about it, anyway."

"It's fine, really. Doesn't even matter anymore." She takes another bite of her sandwich.

"It matters if you're hurt, though," Rachel argues. "And to have it exploited by the media ..."

"Humiliated," Santana admits softly. "Not hurt."

"You didn't do anything wrong, you know," the other woman says. "There's nothing for you to be ashamed about. It's all on him and you're justified for whatever you're feeling ... humiliated, hurt ..."

"Rachel," Santana chuckles under her breath. Some things, it seemed, never changed. Even now when Rachel gets an idea into her head, there's no getting it out. "You're not listening to me." Looking into the other woman's eyes, her voice lowers and her words come out measured. "I'm not hurt – not like anyone might be thinking I am or I should be."

"Oh," Rachel says so softly that it's more breathed out than spoken. Staring at one of the stars on the carpet, she furrows her brows as she tries to understand.

Santana bites her lip. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

Santana chuckles weakly. "You're sorry because my marriage was a joke?"

"Hey." Rachel reaches over and taps her friend's hand. "Your marriage wasn't a joke. Just because he didn't do right by you doesn't mean it wasn't real and you don't really love him."

She purses her lips together and gazes into Rachel's eyes.

Pulling her hand away, Rachel breaks eye contact and clears her throat. She tries her best to make it seem like her full attention is on her sandwich. It's bad enough that she's crossed the line she'd drawn for herself – she's voluntarily participating in something non-business related – but, she reminds herself, no good will come from crossing any other lines. It would serve her best to keep her hands to herself.

Santana takes a deep breath and puts on a smile before looking at Maya. "How's your soup, baby girl?"

"Super yummy. Try!" She pushes her spoon toward Santana.

Rachel sees the spoon moving and puts her hand up. "Or, a fresh one?" She finds a plastic spoon in the take-out bag and holds it out. "So you don't get sick ..."

"As a mother, you kinda get used to germs." She takes Maya's spoon and winks as she tries the soup. "S'good, baby."

She glances at Rachel again. "If I was going to catch what she has, I would have already."

"Right ..." Rachel presses her lips together and looks down at the unused spoon. She puts it down and tries to think of something else to say. It's not often she's rendered speechless but, when it comes to children and family, she really doesn't have the experience

Santana purses her lips and takes a moment to figure out how to break the awkward tension that settled onto their picnic. Her eyes light up and, putting her sandwich down, she taps her daughter's knee. "Maya, are you finished with your soup? Maybe you'd like to show Rachel your room?"

"Will you save my golf ball for me?" the girl asks, pointing to the other small matzoh ball in the container.

Santana nods, smiling softly at her daughter. "You bet. Maybe you can have it for dinner."

"Okay!" Maya stands up and holds her hand out for Rachel. "Wanna see my sparkle wand? It lights up!"

"Well, if it lights up ..." the woman says, getting up and taking the girl's hand. "That's too amazing to pass up."

Santana watches her daughter lead Rachel down the hall. It's not a sight she'd ever expected to see, but she's not going to lie, there's something kind of comforting about it. As she clears the make-shift picnic, putting the food in the kitchen and quickly washing the few dishes they had, she thinks about what she said to Rachel about her marriage – and that fact that she hadn't shared that information with anyone else. Folding the blanket, she tries not to think about what it was that prompted her to do that.

Standing in front of the hall closet, Santana tilts her head when she realizes that she doesn't hear the usual pitter-patter of Maya's feet on the wood floors or the giggles that normally seep out into the hallway from her room. She peeks her head around the door to find out why it's so quiet and the sight that greets her pulls the air from her chest and forces her to lean heavily against the doorframe.

Her little girl is tucked up in bed, the covers pulled up under her chin, and Rachel is sitting cross-legged on the rug reading to her. The other woman's voice is calm – soothing – and there's something about it that reminds Santana of her childhood.

" ... But instead of going into the pen the ink spilled all over and made a big blue puddle on the floor. It was an awful mess." Rachel pauses, about to ask Maya something about the story, and she notices the girl is asleep. She carefully puts the book down before shifting to kneel next to the girl's bed and tucking her covers around her more securely. "Sweet dreams," she whispers as she brushes a few wayward curls out of the girl's face.

When she turns and sees Santana in the doorway, her eyes widen and her hand comes up to rest on her chest. "Oh!" She blinks and then whispers, almost apologetically, "I didn't know you were ... she was sleepy."

Santana blinks a few times, not letting her eyes get too used to the picture in front of her, and gives Rachel a soft smile as she whispers, "It was her nap time anyway."

"She's very proud of her books," Rachel says, getting up and putting the storybook away. After placing it back on the shelf, she heads toward the bedroom door. "She's a really good kid, Santana. You have a lot to be proud of with her."

Santana smiles softly as she looks at her sleeping daughter, whispering. "She's the best thing that's ever happened to me. Including my music…"

"Speaking of ..." Rachel moves past her friend and nods down the hall toward the living room. "Marley asked me to ask you when you're releasing another album."

Santana follows her friend to the living room. "I'm always writing. And I have my own studio room back in LA. But," she pauses and winces, "I don't think I'll be releasing anything for a while."

" ... maybe we'll get to do a special release of your engagement in the show," Rachel suggests. "You'd have to be cooped up in a studio with me and Blaine, but I bet it'd sell really well."

Santana nods. "I'll have a think about it." As soon as she's close enough, she plops herself down on the couch.

" ... okay. " Rachel twists her fingers together as she stands in front of the couch. "So ... " she bites her lip, not quite knowing if she should offer to leave now that the food's been delivered and eaten, or if she is supposed to stay and visit.

Santana takes a deep breath. "Okay, here's the deal. I'm gonna give you the opportunity to ask me whatever you want."

The other woman's eyes widen. "Ask you whatever I want?" She bites her lip and looks around the room cautiously. She's not sure why, but the prospect of this type of conversation makes her stomach twist.

Santana nods. "Yeah. Anything. What I said earlier, about, y'know, me not being hurt. Or whatever. And I'll be a hundred percent up front – honest - with you."

"Why?" Rachel asks warily. "Were you not being honest before?

Santana furrows her brow. "What? No." She shakes her head. "No, I just meant that if you asked me something, I'd be honest. And, if you wanted, I would, I don't know, elaborate, I guess."

"Oh. Elaborate, I see." Rachel gingerly walks to the couch and sits down almost primly with her hands folded in her lap. While Rachel never prided herself on picking up hints very well, and while it took her a long time to figure out the fine art of social cues, she admits to herself that this one is easy. Santana wants to talk to her. She doesn't know why Santana was choosing her but she feels like she should just go with it. "You weren't hurt because ... "

"Because I didn't love him." It's almost strange how easy it is for those words to come out now that Santana accepted them.

Rachel blinks owlishly a few times and breathes out a soft, "Oh."

Santana bites her lip and glances down and the floor.

"I'm sure the amount of time you'd spent apart - your tour, his game schedule - I'm sure that didn't help your relationship, either," the other woman says. "It's hard to be away from someone and not have it affect how you think of them."

Santana starts fiddling with her fingers. "Honesty, right?" She takes a deep breath, her gaze shifting from her hands to the woman sitting next to her. "I'm not sure that was the problem."

"Let me guess, his sleeping with other women?" Rachel grimaces. "Because that would be a problem for me, let me tell you."

She shakes her head and lowers her voice. "I don't blame him for sleeping with other women."

Rachel frowns, her brows pushing together and creating little creases in her forehead. "You don't?" Blowing out a frustrated breath, she says, "No offence but if two people are married and one is stepping out, then that person deserves a lot of blame."

"I wasn't really ..." She clenches her jaw, a part of her disbelieving that she's really going to admit this – and to Rachel no less. "He was sleeping with other people, because ..." She looks into Rachel's eyes hoping not to have to finish her sentence. There was a time once, long ago, when she wouldn't have had to – a time when Rachel would have just known what she was trying to say.

"... because you were with someone else, too?"

Santana rolls her eyes and frowns. "Why does everyone think that?" She crosses her arms over her chest and leans back heavily against the couch. "No, I wasn't with someone else. I just wasn't in love with him. I don't - I probably never really was."

"But you married him," Rachel says simply. "You have a child with him." She reaches over and puts her hand on Santana's. "You don't have to pretend not to feel something because you think it's embarrassing, you know. I won't judge you."

"I'm not." She purses her lips together. "Does that make me a bad person? That I'm looking back and finding all the ways I didn't love him – it makes me sound pretty horrible, right?"

"I just told you," the other woman says with a grin. "I'm not judging you."

Santana breathes out slowly and tilts her head back, her eyes on the ceiling. "I should have known, you know? And I shouldn't have let it go on as long as it did."

"Why did you? For Maya?"

She nods. "Yeah, I didn't want her growing up in a broken family. I really tried, you know?"

Rachel nods softly, a soft chuckle escaping her. "You always were so ... " she stops, wrinkling her nose cutely as she thinks of the right words, "... old-fashioned with your ideas about family."

Santana pulls her gaze from the ceiling and looks at Rachel with a serious expression. "My abuela is old-fashioned in her thinking. I just..." She frowns. "... I like to think I've grown since high school, you know?"

Rachel tilts her head at the mention of high school. She thinks about it and tries to consider why Santana would bring it up in a conversation about failed marriages and loveless relationships. She swallows roughly at where her mind takes her and immediately derails the thought before if can firmly take root.

"How is your family? I haven't seen them since," she pauses as she thinks about how long it had been, "since before I left school."

Santana furrows her brow at Rachel's sudden change of topic. "Uhm, they're good. I don't get to see them much, but they try to visit and see Maya as much as they can."

"Maybe if you stay on this coast for a bit, you'll have more opportunities to get together," she says, offering a polite smile.

She chuckles. "Are you trying to get me to stay in New York?"

Rachel's eyes widen, but then she sees her friend's teasing smile. She playfully slaps her hand. "It wouldn't be a horrible thing to have you around, I suppose."

"S'cause I'm awesome, I know. And I'm pretty sure Marley would be happy about it." She smiles and bites her lip.

"Oh, god." Rachel shakes her head dramatically. "You're all she's talked about since I told her you're our new Lucy. She's already asked for comp tickets to your opening show."

"You should invite her to a rehearsal. She's a sweet kid."

Rachel smiles affectionately. "She's one of my favorite people in the whole world, actually," she says. "Marley's like us. She breathes music and gets excited by it." As she talks, her eyes light up. "And if you don't know about a band she likes, she will school you in the sweetest, most complete way possible." Rachel sighs. "I could have used a girl like her when I was growing up, actually. She's so ..." her shoulders jump as she says, "normal."

"Nah." Santana grimaces in distaste. "Normal is so over-rated. And, anyway, there's really no such thing as normal, you know that. We're all normal in our own way, right?"

It's only takes a beat – just long enough for Rachel to expel a breath. Her mouth, which was opening to reply, quickly closes and her lips press together into a thin smile. It would do no good to ruin their friendly afternoon by bringing up the past.

So what if Santana didn't think that people were normal in their own ways when Rachel most needed her to? She does now – and now is where they are.


	8. Chapter 8

Rachel beams as Blaine steps out of the curtain call line and, grinning widely, bends low at the waist for the audience who are already on their feet, cheering. When he comes back to the line, she takes his hand and reaches out to take Santana's for the last ensemble bow of the evening.

Their newest costar smiles brightly at Rachel before leaning forward enough to extend her proud smile to Blaine. Santana feels Rachel squeeze her hand and she knows it's her cue. Together, the trio steps forward and graciously bow, again, for their audience. She lifts her head and peeks up at the crowd, as much as she can see past the bright lights washing the stage, and allows herself a moment to take in their cheers and the electricity coming from them.

Even after the cast has filed off stage, the crowd's enthusiastic applause continues.

"One more," Rachel says excitedly, pulling Santana's hand and leading her from the wings onto the stage, again. Once there, she puts her hand on her friend's back and pushes her lightly, forcing her to step forward. It's obvious who the crowd came to see and it's obvious that they weren't disappointed.

Santana isn't prepared for the emotions that overwhelm her in that moment. She's certain that she couldn't possibly smile any wider and yet, it's somehow not nearly enough to convey her happiness. With a few mouthed thank yous to the audience, she tries to communicate how humbling their affection is.

Deciding that it's time to share the attention, she turns her head and holds her hands out for her co-stars. Blaine winks in his boyishly charming way, takes her hand and leads her in a bow as she realizes that Rachel isn't standing beside her anymore.

Flowers are, of course, a tradition for opening night. It takes a moment for Santana to realize what's happening when Rachel, grinning widely, rushes onto stage with a large bouquet. She holds them out with one hand and pulls Santana into a hug with the other. "You were fantastic," she says over the cheers. "Congratulations."

Santana cradles the flowers in one arm and holds onto her friend with the other. Her lips hover close to Rachel's ear in the hopes that her surprised "thank you" can be heard over the applause.

The other woman pulls back and, with a smile that promises not to fade, lets go of her friend and claps along with the audience until Blaine ushers them off the stage again.

"Hey, I got you slightly less pretentious but equally pretty flowers." He grabs a small bouquet from the stage manager's desk. "For you," he says regally as he presents them to her with a half-bow.

"Aw, dude." Santana loops her arm over his shoulder to give him a quick one-armed hug. "They're beautiful." As releases Blain and lifts both bouquets to her nose she grimaces. "I didn't realize - I kinda feel bad. I didn't get you guys any flowers."

Rachel shakes her head and teases, "It's not our opening night, silly."

"But you can bring coffee tomorrow since we're staying up late just to catch your reviews," Blaine suggests. "We are, right? It's an opening night thing - " He tilts his head and quirks his brows. "Right?"

"I'm in," Rachel says, nodding. "Though I can already tell you that the words amazing, and maybe even scene-stealer will appear often." She winks at Santana to let her know that the thought of sharing the spotlight doesn't bother her in the least.

Santana gives them both a soft look, suddenly feeling every bit part of the family their director was telling her they were. "You don't have to stay up, guys. You," she smirks as she turns her attention to Blaine, "need your beauty sleep, Blainers."

"So does Rach, but we're staying up anyway. It's a perk of being a grown up." He leans in close, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "No bedtime."

Santana laughs lightly before rolling her eyes. "I need to check on Maya, who does have a bedtime. And I should put these lovelies in some water. And –" She pauses for dramatic effect and then waggles her brows, "I think a certain stylist wants to tell you how amazing you were tonight." Santana nudges her head towards the call board where Kurt is pretending to be busy looking at the notices.

"Stylist, huh?" Blaine's eyes quickly move to Kurt and, when the other man glances over, he gives him his best charming smile. At Kurt's sly smile, he steps away, an appreciative "nice" falling from his lips.

"I think you must be confused, Santana. This isn't Fiddler on the Roof," Rachel says, her voice teasing. "There's no matchmaker role in Jekyll and Hyde."

Santana shrugs and jokes, "I can't help my ways, Rachel." Her gaze locks onto Rachel's and she dips her head as she causally says, "About what Blaine said? You don't need any beauty sleep. You're absolutely stunning."

"And you're full of it," Rachel says, laughing loudly and pushing her friend's shoulder. "You're high from being on stage. And come the morning paper, you're going to be high from the reviews." She purses her lips, raises her chin defiantly and announces, "I'll accept no compliments until you come down."

Santana rolls her eyes playfully and motions Rachel to follow her. "What do you have against compliments? If I remember correctly, you used to be kinda big on them. There was always something nice flying out of your mouth and smacking me upside the head." She teases as heads to her dressing room.

"Ah, so, you were hoping for compliments and flowers?" Rachel's smile doesn't falter at the teasing banter that borders on being flirtatious. She should care but she's just come off the stage and it's really hard for her to care about something like the possibility of being disappointed or the fear or heartache when she can still feel the rhythm of the audience's applause pulsing in her veins.

Santana dips her head to smell the flowers, again. "They're beautiful. Really." She smiles warmly as they walk towards her dressing room.

"I'm glad you like them."

"Excuse me, Santana Lopez?" a young man in a courier uniform asks, interrupting the two women as they walk by.

Santana turns to the young man, a smile on her face, and she raises her brows expectantly. "Yeah? Hi."

"Uh, hey. Can I get you to sign for this?" He holds out an express mail envelope attached to his clipboard.

Rachel blinks in confusion. Obviously from his uniform, she knows he's not a fan looking for an autograph. Beside, they usually stake out the stage door. But she's also never known a messenger service to have couriers running at ten o'clock at night. Without prompting, she reaches over and takes the flowers from Santana, freeing her friend's hands so that she can sign.

It's clear from the crease above Santana's nose and the way her lips are pressed into a thin, down-turned line that this isn't an expected communication. She doesn't wait for the courier to walk away, before ripping into the envelope.

At first she's not sure what she's looking at. The packet in her hands looks like a copy of the divorce papers she'd had her lawyer draw up. Only, she expected that it would take a little while for Matt to look at it and give it to his lawyer to review before he signed and returned it. The turnaround on this is much too quick and it makes her fingers tingle with nervous energy.

She quickly flips to the last page, already knowing what she's looking for. Instead of Matt's sloppy signature, she's met with a blank line. Santana's frown deepens as she begins to flip from the back to the front of the document, searching for an explanation.

She finds it when she spots a light blue post-it note affixed below the paragraph detailing the custody terms.

I'm not forwarding to my lawyer or signing until my name is here. This isn't all on me. You left me long before I left you.

"Are you okay?" Rachel asks when Santana's mouth opens but the other woman doesn't say anything. "What is it?"

Santana purses her lips together, trying her best to stay calm. She can't help that her eyes tear up or than her jaw clenches tightly. Inhaling deeply, she shakily says, "I have to talk to Holly."

"What's wrong?" her co-stars eyes widen and she gently grasps Santana's arm. "What's going on?"

The other woman pushes the envelope and divorce papers toward Rachel and then crosses her arms over her chest. "He's not signing them."

Taking the papers and awkwardly shifting the flowers so that she can look at the document, Rachel rifles through the pages to find that there is, in fact, no signature on the final page. She flips back to where she saw a post-it note and, as she reads, her lips pull into a deep frown.

Santana quickly snatches the papers out of the other woman's hands and stalks down the hallway to her dressing room. The moment the door handle is within reach, she throws the door open and scans the room. Her manager isn't there yet.

She tosses the envelope and papers on her dressing table and makes her way to the small couch where Maya is curled up under her Hello Kitty blanket, sleeping. Perching herself on the arm of the couch, she runs her fingers through her daughter's hair and tries to keep her head from spinning.

"Where the hell is Holly?"

By the time Rachel catches up to Santana, the other woman, still perched over her sleeping daughter, has gotten her cell phone and is furiously typing out a message.

: Where are you?! I need you to be here NOW. Now = 2 sec ago.

Rachel watches the other woman carefully. She's really not sure why she followed Santana. The rest of the cast are loitering in the hallways and celebrating with champagne toasts and crude bastardizations of the show's songs. They probably expect Rachel to make an appearance (if not a small speech) on her way to her dressing room. She always does.

And even though it's Holly who Santana wants to see, Rachel has decided to be available, too – albeit it rather hastily and with very little reasoning to back up the decision.

"Move. C'mon, get out of the way," a voice calls out harshly in the hallway pulling Rachel's attention away from Santana. "I'll show you what 'break a leg' means in other parts of New York City. Move it!"

Rachel takes a step back and peeks around the doorframe to see Holly pushing her way through the ensemble cast. The woman snatches a glass of champagne from one of the understudies as she barrels toward Santana's dressing room.

The first thing Holly notices is that Rachel is hanging around Santana's doorway. Her eyes narrow suspiciously at the woman as she breezes past her.

"Hey!" The word is already hanging in air before Holly steps inside the dressing room. That's when she notices Maya sleeping peacefully under her mother's watchful eye. She repeats in a whisper, "Hey."

Rachel follows Holly into the room, closing the door behind her. Not wanting to overstep the boundaries of their newly rekindled friendship, she decides her attention is best focused on the flowers in her hand and sets about looking for a vase.

"What's wrong? Your text sounded weirdly panicked and overtly ominous."

Santana's eyes remain on Maya as her fingers gently brush through her messy, curly hair. Without moving her attention away from the little girl, she points to the envelope and papers on the dressing table.

Holly skims the packet, a deep frown settling on her face, and then carefully reads Matt's note. "Fucking stupid son of a bitch," she whispers.

Santana looks up at Holly, her eyes shine with tears she's fervently trying to hold back. When she speaks, her voice is a rough whisper. "He's going to fight for her. What if he wins?"

"He's not getting her, Santana," her friend vows, tossing the papers roughly onto the make-up table. "Matt fucked up and everyone knows it. It was all over Twitter, Instagram – anyone with internet access has proof of how badly he's screwed up. No judge is going to take a little girl away from her mother and give her to a guy like him."

Rachel can't help but ask, "A guy like him?"

"A cheater," Holly says definitively. "It shows disrespect for women and disregard for family."

Santana pinches the bridge of her nose and huffs out a frustrated breath. "That's not the point. He's going to play up the 'I never loved him' angle."

"Which he can't prove," Holly states firmly. Her eyes soften as they drift to where Maya is resting. "The way I see it, that little girl right there is all the proof you need that you did."

Rachel nervously and, subconsciously, clears her throat as she busies herself arranging the flowers.

"I do have to ask," Holly begins haltingly, raising her brow and inhaling deeply. "Is there anything else I need to know? You told me about your little fling with Rachel and that's easy to explain away as youthful experimentation. But is there something he can drudge up? Anything?"

Rachel clenches her jaw, her lip caught painfully between her teeth, and forces herself to focus on the flowers in front of her. She tries to let go of what Holly said, knowing that, had she been the one explaining her past with Santana, "a little fling" would not be how she would have described it.

Santana considers her options as she watches her little girl sleeping peacefully. It's clear to her that Holly needs to know everything but she just isn't sure how to start. After taking a deep breath, she turns her gaze to Holly, meets her friend's eyes and gently says, "I think you should sit down."

"I don't want to sit down," her friend says cautiously as her body goes into defensive mode: arms crossed, back straight and shoulders squared. "If I sit down, you're going to tell me something I don't want to hear. I'll stand, thank you very much."

Santana frowns, sighing at her friend. "Holls, c'mon. It's not like that."

Holly raises her eyebrows in warning and points at Santana as she sits gingerly in the vanity chair. "It better not be like that."

After a few false starts, the other woman inhales deeply before offering, "I maybe wasn't really, y'know, in love with Matt. Ever. Really. I guess." After a beat, she admits, "I wasn't."

She shakes her head as she tries to explain, the words running quickly out of her mouth. "I wanted to be. I should have been. We were the perfect couple - cheerleader, basketball star." She pauses and presses her lips together as she squints up at Holly. "He was my best friend, and I really did love him."

"... and somehow he knew you weren't in love with him so he thinks it's okay to screw other women?" Holly asks impatiently. "That's not how it works, San."

Santana doesn't know how to say what she needs to say. It's easier for her to just let her shoulders express her inability to communicate what's sitting on the tip of her tongue. It doesn't help, of course, that Rachel is there, her focus seemingly on carefully placing more flowers than can actually fit into her small, blown glass vase. She may not know the other woman as well as she used to, but she's sure her attention is only half on the flowers.

Clearing her throat, she tries again. "Maybe not, but - that's how it was. I thought, y'know, I thought marrying him was the right thing to do, you know? I thought, in time, I'd fall in love with him."

Rachel pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and pretends that the flowers need extra arranging. She places and re-places each flower, tugs lightly on some of the stemmed leaves and even pokes the petals as though fluffing them.

Holly sighs as she throws her hands into the air and lets them fall with a dull smack onto her thighs. "Okay, fine," she finally says. "You didn't love him. That's not a crime or a sin."

Santana swallows roughly, recognizing a window of opportunity when it's opened. "No, but being gay is – to some people." Her eyes are drawn to the floor not only because she can't seem to look into her friend's eyes, but also because she's pretty sure from the feeling in her stomach that the ground just opened up and she's in a free fall.

The vase Rachel had just started to lift from the vanity slips, its base making a dull thud as it falls back into place. Her fingers fumble, causing the flowers to shake against each other and a little bit of water to splash onto the vanity as she clumsily tries to make sure it doesn't topple over.

Holly spins around, venom in her eyes as glares at her through the mirror. "What? You think being gay is a sin, Tinkerbell?"

"Me? No - I -" the woman sputters, her eyes large and round under Holly's scrutiny.

Santana's eyes widen and she gives Holly a warning look. "Holly, don't."

Her friend turns more fully in an effort to really look at Rachel. "No, I'd like to hear her answer."

Rachel huffs and spins around, crossing her arms over her chest. "I was raised by two men. So, no - I don't think it's a sin." She returns the other woman's hard glare. "And why you think I would when you know about our," she pauses and then grimaces in distaste as she says, "little fling is beyond me."

Santana sighs and stands up, whispering harshly. "Stop it – both of you. I just said something out loud that I've never had the courage to say before. I've been struggling, fighting against this for years and you're - what are you doing? You're making it about you two?"

"I didn't make it about anything. In case you didn't notice, I was being attacked" Rachel whispers harshly. She clenches her jaw before taking a deep breath. "I shouldn't even be here -" Rachel is a nervous ball of fluster as she backs toward the door. "I should go."

"What? No! Don't go ..." Santana looks pleadingly at her friend. "Please."

Holly narrows her eyes as though studying her friend.

"Look," Rachel begins, trying to be calm and level-headed. Admittedly, it's not something she's known for being able to pull off. She takes a step closer and touches Santana's arm. "It's been a crazy night for you already. I think you need to talk to your manager more than you need a cast party" Squeezing Santana's arm, she offers, "Do you want me to email you the review highlights?"

Santana takes a deep breath as she gazes into Rachel's eyes. "Only if you feel like staying up." She gives her a weak smile.

Holly's eyes move as though she's watching a tennis match. All the while, her mouth is thinning as she presses her lips together.

"Yeah." Rachel musters up shy smile in return. "I probably won't be able to sleep." She blinks a few times before giving her friend's arm a last little squeeze and then letting go of it. "Call me in the morning?"

"Yeah, I will. Definitely."

Holly sighs loudly and rolls her eyes. "And you can leave now," she finally says as she makes shooing motions with her hand. "Unless you're going to say goodbye a few more times ..."

Rachel swallows roughly, her eyes finding the floor. Without a word to Holly, she starts to leave. She's out of the door and about to close it when she says, "And you really were fantastic tonight, Santana. Don't let anything else ruin that, okay?"

"Thanks, Rach." She watches her friend leave before turning to her manager and narrowing her eyes at her. "I get that you're upset, but you didn't have to take it out on Rachel."

"Rachel?" Holly asks, pointing to the door. She struggles to keep her voice low. "You mean the Rachel you had a fling with in high school? The one you had a lesbian fling with who just happens to have come back into your life? And what else is new in your life, let me think. Oh! Now you're saying you're gay!" She shakes her head and points at Santana. "Oh, I think it's more than okay to take it out on her."

"What're you trying to say?" Santana purses her lips together, her eyes wide with disbelief as she looks into Holly's.

"I'm just going to ask you," the other woman says. "I'm not even going to beat around the semi-pun of a bush." She gets to her feet, crosses her arms over her chest and straightens her back. "Are you dating her?"

Santana's mouth falls open and she scoffs. "I can't believe you'd even think - "

"What? That you'd date Rachel without telling me? That you'd date anyone without telling me? Why not?" The chuckle Holly pushes out is harsh and, for a moment, she thinks it's almost enough to wake up Santana's daughter.

When the little girl doesn't react, Holly closes her eyes and forces herself to breathe before continuing.

"Just a few weeks ago, you told me that what you had with her was," she shrugs, "some experiment. Something that was nothing. And now you're telling me that Matt has something to hold over you and that you're gay. What am I supposed to think? Does that sound like I have a reason to think you trust me?"

"You think I don't trust you? God, that isn't it at all." Santana swallows roughly as her mind tries to come up with the right words to explain. Had she prepared, maybe she could have come up with something that would rationalize how she's handled this. But this? This wasn't how she'd planned to have this discussion. She'd actively planned, instead, to never have this discussion.

"Of course I trust you. You're, like, one of the only people in the world I do trust. But you have to understand that -" Santana looks away, her eyes dropping to the floor. She's not sure if she's embarrassed or ashamed at this point. "I just - I wasn't ready to admit it. Not to anybody and not to myself."

The other woman steps up to her friend and dips her head, forcing the other woman to meet her eyes. "Have I ever judged you?" she asks, her eyes much more serious than Santana has ever seen.

Santana's eyes widen at the intensity in Holly's. "That isn't what this is about, I promise. It – I promise, this isn't about you. I wasn't ready to say it out loud. I thought, it's stupid, okay? But if I said it out loud then it'd be real, you know? If I told someone, that would be it out there and when something's out there, there's no taking it back." She lowers her voice. "I wasn't ready for that."

"But now you are," Holly asks slowly. "Because your timing ..."

She sighs. "I know. I know, you think I'm telling you this because of Rachel." She looks confidently into Holly's eyes. "I'm not with her. I promise. I would tell you if I was."

Holly searches her friend's eyes for the truth. Once she accepts her words are genuine, she pulls Santana into a firm hug. "You know I love you, right?" Holly asks.

Santana allows the other woman to hold her tightly before bringing her own arms to circle around her friend. "I know."

"Good, because I'll break your arms off if you ever keep anything from me again," the other woman replies, the warmth in her voice softening the message. She pulls out of the embrace and holds Santana at arm's length. Her voice suddenly grows serious when she asks, "So, what does Matt have that he can give to the press? Any evidence of lesbionic behavior?"

Santana shrugs and bites her bottom lip. "Who knows? I mean, I never cheated on him or anything. But …" Her shoulders rise and she blows out a breath.

"But, you called him a girl's name during sex?"

Santana gasps and smacks her manager's arm gently. "Very funny."

"Assault." Holly points her finger at her friend. "Careful, I know the press."

Santana chuckles and rolls her eyes playfully. "Just - I'm just saying, I've lived with him. I don't think he has any proof or anything, but, I guess, you can never be too sure."

"Okay, things he might have on you ..." Holly holds up her hand and, before she starts ticking off her list on her fingers, she says, "stop me when I hit something ..."

She starts counting on her fingers, "lady-on-lady porn, subscription to Curve, Girlfriends or Popular Mechanics …" Holly grins and waggles her brows at Santana.

Santana frowns and narrows her eyes at her friend. "Are you going to continue making fun of me?"

"I'm not making fun, Santana," her friend says calmly. "If anything, I'm just showing you that nothing's changed. Unless you want me to start treating you differently."

Holly purses her lips and looks at Santana expectantly. "Nothing has changed, right? You don't want to, like, rip my clothes off or anything ... right?"

Rolling her eyes, Santana lets out a frustrated breath before saying, "Nothing has changed."

"I'm a little disappointed, to be honest." Holly heaves a sigh and runs her hands over her sides. "I've got a rockin' bod, Santana. I mean, really. You're missin' out."

She winks and then says, "Seriously, though. What are you afraid Matt's going to say? If there's nothing material for him to go to the press with, then it's all just gossip. And, on the heels of what he's done? No one's going to believe a word out of his lying, cheating, bad boy mouth."

Santana shrugs, her lips dipping into a frown. "I just don't want to give him anything. No advantage at all, okay? I can't lose Maya."

"You won't." Holly takes both of Santana's hands in her and looks into her eyes. "I won't let him. Trust me, okay?"

Santana knows it's ridiculous the moment it's out of her mouth but she can't help it when she asks, "Promise?"

Holly simply lifts a finger to her chest and crosses her heart.


	9. Chapter 9

After smoothing down her skirt for the third time, Rachel blows out a nervous breath and quickly raps on the door. She bites her lip and considers turning around and leaving, her eyes darting from the door to the elevator across the hall.

Patting the small feet resting in her lap, Santana signals the little girl to lift her feet so that she can get up. For her effort, Maya is given the iPad to hold as her mother gets up to look through the peep-hole in the front door. Seeing Rachel through the distorted glass, she quickly unlocks the door and smiles softly at her friend. "Hey, I didn't know you were coming over."

"Yeah, I kind of didn't know, either," the other woman admits. "Are you busy? If you are, it's okay. I can come back ..." Rachel's already turning away before she finishes her sentence.

Santana reaches out and gently closes her fingers around Rachel's wrist. "Wha-hey, no. We're not busy." She wrinkles her nose, her shoulders pushing up into an exaggerated shrug. "We kinda just woke up so, as long as you don't mind our bed hair ..."

"No, you look beautiful," Rachel says without thinking. Her eyes widen and she inhales sharply. "You don't have bed hair ..."

Santana smiles almost shyly before opening the door wide enough for Rachel to step inside. "Thanks. And you look beautiful – really nice this morning, too."

Instead of replying, the other woman pushes her hair behind her ear and gingerly steps past Santana and into the apartment.

"I probably should have called ..."

Santana shrugs. "Rachel, it's fine, really." She closes the door behind her friend. "I'm kinda glad you're here. Gives me something else to focus on ..."

Rachel asks. "Is everything okay? Holly didn't have any wise words of," she pauses for a moment, winces and meekly finishes with a soft, "wisdom."

Maya's head pops up from where she was hidden by the couch. "Do you want some Cocoa Puffs?"

"Everything's fine. Well, as fine as it can be." Santana tries to brush of the concern in Rachel's voice by focusing on Maya. She walks over to the couch and kisses the top of her daughter's head. "You're not having Cocoa Puffs for breakfast, Munchkin."

"But Rachel's here and maybe she wants Cocoa Puffs ..."

Rachel presses her lips together and tries not to giggle. "Nice try, Maya. I think your mom's onto you."

"Rachel wants a fruit salad, right,?" Santana smiles softly at the other woman before heading over to the kitchen area.

"I don't ... " Rachel follows her, shaking her head. "You don't have to feed me. I'm fine." She offers Santana a small smile. "Thank you, but, reall. I just wanted to talk to you."

Santana narrows her eyes at Rachel and sighs in defeat. "Okay, but here's the thing: that was a tag-team thing. You were supposed to agree with me." She frowned dramatically as she walks over to the fridge. "Maya, what do you want for breakfast? And don't say Cocoa Puffs."

"Chocolate milk."

Rachel dips her head and purses her lips at the little girl.

"Milk is good for you!"

"If you have some fruit salad, I'll have some," Rachel offers the little girl. "Deal?"

Maya hums softly to herself, squinting and tilting her head to the right, and then the left, as she pretends to think about it. "Okay," she finally agrees.

Santana gives her friend a thankful look before opening the fridge. "Okay, we've got chopped pineapple, apples, blueberries..." She starts taking out the containers and the fruit. "D'you want some kiwi too, Maya..?" She puts the fruit down on the counter and grabs a large bowl from the cupboard.

"Is that the furry one?" Maya asks, her nose wrinkling "I want extra blueberries because blue is my favorite color berry."

Rachel joins Santana in the kitchen. "Is there anything I can do? I promise, I didn't come over with an ulterior motive to have you make breakfast for me."

Santana starts throwing the fruit together in the large bowl. "It's just a fruit salad." She smiles softly. "But if you want to do something, you could maybe grab some oranges and whatever else you want in it."

"Okay ... "

Maya hops into the kitchen, her loose curls messily bouncing as she moves. "Mama, I wanna help, too."

"Why don't you grab some bowls for us, baby girl. And maybe some orange juice, too?" Santana busies herself with preparing the fruit salad.

Rachel watches the little girl pull a step-stool out from beside a cabinet and climb onto it. She bites her lip as she rethinks her visit. Once again, Rachel is faced with domesticity; a type of life she'd never made time to create for herself (if the take-out menus and solo coffee cup maker is any indication).

Not quite knowing how to leave -and not feeling comfortable starting the discussion she came over to start, not with Maya around - she just stands and awkwardly watches her friend.

Santana turns her head to glance at her friend. "Are you okay?" After she finishes preparing the fruit salad, she purses her lips together as she waits for Maya to grab the bowls. "Is uh - is this about last night?"

Rachel gives a cursory glance in Maya's direction and nervously bites her lower lip. "Maybe we can talk about it later," she says softly. "I'm still," she swallows and breathes out heavily, "I'm still wrapping my mind around it, I guess."

Santana glances at Maya as well, before turning back to her friend. "I suppose it was a lot to take in."

"Yeah, I was kind of - " Rachel pauses when she hears a door close harshly.

"Santana?" A male voice calls out. "Maya, baby? Where are you?"

Maya jumps off of her step stool, her eyes wide and round. "Daddy!" she screams before running out of the kitchen.

Santana's eyes widen and she drops the knife she was using to chop the fruit, and she whispers, "What the hell?" She turns around and watches Maya run out of the room,

Rachel whispers, "Should I go? I should go, right?"

"Baby girl!" Matt picks up his daughter and swings her up into his arms.

"My friend Rachel is here. You wanna meet her?"

"Yeah, baby girl. I'd love to meet your little friend." Matt walks into the kitchen and stops in his tracks when he sees a complete stranger. "Uh, hi. I'm Matt, Maya's dad. You must be Rachel's mom?"

Maya giggles insanely, her hands covering her belly. "Silly, that is Rachel. She's my friend and we're having blueberries!"

Santana swallows roughly and narrows her eyes at Matt. "What're you doing here, Matt?"

"Still half my apartment," he says gruffly, his eyes never leaving Rachel. "I'm sorry, who are you exactly?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Rachel says as she snaps out of her daze. "Rachel Berry. I'm Santana's co-star - "

"Co-star, huh," he narrows his eyes and glances at Santana. "That what we're calling it these days?"

Santana glances between Rachel and Matt, and then to the little girl that's in his arms. "Maya, baby girl, why don't you go show Rachel your toys, huh?"

"Okay, just don't eat all the blueberries, okay?" she asks as she reaches for the other woman's hand. "C'mon, I have a princess wand that you can play with."

Rachel opens her mouth to say something but decides against it and lets the little girl pull her away.

"Let me guess," Matt says, grabbing an apple slice and popping it into his mouth. "I've got it all wrong, right?"

"You do." She narrows her eyes at him as she pulls the salad bowl out of his reach. "What are you doing here, Matt?"

"Trying to figure out what it is that you're doing here," he answers. "And with who. Is she why you're walking away so easy?"

Santana's breath hitches and she does her best to keep a neutral expression. "Rachel has nothing to do with us. You are the reason I'm walking away. You know, the whole you cheating on my thing kind of makes it difficult to stick around. Or did you forget the whole Sugar thing already? "

"No, and I haven't forgotten why, either." Matt cocks his head to the side. "Care to make any guesses?"

Santana shakes her head. "Look, I know I wasn't exactly the perfect wife. But you weren't the perfect husband, either." She purses her lips together. "Why are you even doing this?"

"I'm not doing anything." Matt shakes his head. "I didn't try to get you to sign away your right to see your kid."

"I wasn't doing that." She crosses her arms in front of her. "You know that wasn't what I was doing. And anyway, I wasn't the one who walked away from our family. I stayed. You cheated on me – you walked away."

Matt shakes his head. "I strayed, Santana. That doesn't mean I wouldn't stay if you asked me to." Looking into his wife's eyes, he says,"If you wanted me to stay, I would. If you think you could try to meet me half-way this time ..."

"Meet you half-way? Do you think that's what marriage is about?" She shakes her head again. "If you were in love with me, you wouldn't have strayed." She takes a deep breath. "And if I was in love with you, you wouldn't have had a reason to."

"So it's both of our faults," Matt says, seemingly happy that they are agreeing on something. "Why am I the only one getting punished?"

"I'm not trying to punish you. I never said you couldn't see Maya again. Not because of you, but because Maya adores you. I would never take her father away from her. And you're actually really good with her." She holds her head high. "But I want full custody."

"So do I," Matt says. "My mom said that - "

She raises her brow. "Your mom?" She tilts her head. "Matt, c'mon!"

"What?" He throws his hands in the air. "Who else is on my side, huh? You've got everyone. Holly, Maya - total strangers who feel it's their right to weigh in on our lives."

He straightens his back and inhales deeply. "But now I have something on you."

"You don't have anything on me, Matt."

He snickers and shakes his head. "Your friend is here awfully early. Or, is it that she's just still here from last night?"

Santana rolls her eyes. "She is my friend, Matt. You can go down and ask George when she got here if you like." She sighs. "Matt, don't do this, okay? Don't put Maya through this."

"Oh, it's okay to drag me through the mud, but the second it's you, then you make it about Maya."

"No, this isn't about me." She points at Matt. "This is your fault. I never dragged you through the mud. I didn't know anything. Maybe you should have a talk with that attention-seeker you were sleeping with."

Rachel softly clears her throat as she peeks into the kitchen. "I'm sorry to interrupt but," she gently begins, "Maya's having problems concentrating on her princess twirls ..." She looks into her friend's eyes, effectively ignoring the man in the room.

Santana turns to look at her friend and nods her head before sighing. She turns her attention back to Matt. "You should go."

"Me?" Matt's eyes widen. "I came to see my daughter and I'm not leaving until I've gotten to see her."

Rachel pushes her lips together in an effort not to say anything to the man. It's not her place and, even though she knows it, that doesn't make holding her tongue any easier.

"This conversation is over, Santana," Matt says. "You can walk away from me, but I'm not walking away from her." Without another word, he leaves the kitchen and heads to Maya's room.

Santana watches Matt leave the room and buries her head in her hands. "Shit."

She takes a deep breath before walking into the living room area and grabbing her phone from the coffee table.

Matt's here.

Rachel looks down the hallway and then at Santana's back, not quite sure where she should go, if anywhere at all. Standing alone in the kitchen, she thinks, would be only slightly less awkward than following Matt back to his daughter's room.

She walks up behind her friend and gently touches her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Santana closes her eyes tightly and shakes her head as she whispers. "No." She takes a deep breath and turns to face Rachel as she continues to whisper. "He's not backing down – and he's got his parents involved. And I don't know how but he knows, Rach. And he's going to use it against me."

Rachel squints, her lips pursing as she stares at her friend in confusion. "I don't see how he would know anything, Santana. Have you said anything to him? Told him?"

Santana shakes her head. "Of course I haven't. But that doesn't matter. He thinks we're together."

The other woman rolls her eyes. "Well, as long as he's basing his beliefs on something completely untrue ..."

Rachel sighs and looks into her friend's eyes. "He doesn't know anything. As evidenced by his thinking that we're together." A sad look passes over her face but she swallows and quickly puts her game-face on. "Don't admit anything you don't have to."

Santana's phone sounds, notifying her of an incoming text.

Whatever you're talking about with him, don't talk about THAT. I'll shove this old lady out of the way for the next taxi if you need me to come over. Do you?

Santana takes a few moments to look into her friend's eyes, trying to figure out what she means, and why she looked so sad. They might have been apart for a while, but Santana still knows Rachel. And she knows the girl wears her heart on her sleeve.

She quickly clears her throat and turns her attention to her phone.

I've denied everything, but he knows, Holls. Or at least, he thinks he does. And he's saying he's not going to back down. He wants full custody.

Rachel clasps her hands in front of her and looks away, somehow feeling like it gives Santana more privacy to text.

Alright. I'm going to office and I'm going to come up with a plan to take his ass down. He's not getting Maya. Plain and simple.

Glad for Holly's vigor (and even more glad that Holly's on her side), Santana responds: You want me to come in? Come up with a plan together? Rachel's here, but she'd understand.

Santana looks up from her phone and into Rachel's eyes. "I'm sorry about - this. We didn't even get a chance to talk about the reviews from last night."

"Please," her friend replies, shaking her head. "I can regale you with quotes of how everyone loved you later. This is more important. I just wish I could do something ... helpful."

No. And Rachel can't leave either. Don't let her.

Santana furrows her brow at Holly's text. She glances at Rachel again. "Do you mind staying for a bit? It's just - I don't want to argue with him anymore. And if you're here, maybe there will be a buffer or, I don't even know."

"Yes, of course," her friend says as she nods. "I can stay."

Won't bore you with details. Highlights: Paps sold pics of your new old pal going to your place. I'm guessing Matt's up your ass about being with Rachel, right? That's why.

Santana sighs when she reads Holly's response. "Shit." She lifts her eyes to meet Rachel's "Holly just told me the paps sold pictures of you coming in." She shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Rach."

"For what?"

It's stupid. Don't worry about it. We've got a great story to sell them about your old high school friend helping you in your time of need - they love that bullshit.

"Really, Santana," Rachel says. "My agent will be pleased that someone was interested enough to take a picture.'

Santana quickly replies to Holly.

Make sure that's what gets written. I don't want Rachel getting dragged into this.

Plopping herself down on the couch, she rolls her eyes at Holly's retort.

Just don't kiss her in front of Matt. But if you do kiss her, you have to tell me. Because I'm nosy. Love you! And breathe - I got this.

Rachel sits next to her and gives her friend a tiny shrug. "I don't mind," she says softly before looking into Santana's eyes. "It's what friends do, right?"

For a second the dual conversations confuse Santana. Friends kiss – and tell their other friends. She blinks the thought away and, with a clearer mind, says, "You know I appreciate it, right?"

Not sure what to say, the other woman just smiles and gives Santana a quick nod.

"If you wanted to hear some good news," she finally says. "The critics loved you ... "

Santana smiles softly. "I really loved being on that stage last night. It was so different from what I usually do."

"Well, anyone who might have thought you were just another singer trying to be a Broadway star was mistaken. If I may quote," Rachel says, holding up her finger, "the Bordash, from the Times, wrote that 'Santana Lopez isn't just another celebrity trying on stage for size; she's a star and Broadway fits her like a glove.' "

"Fits me like a glove, huh?" She chuckles. "I really have enjoyed it. Especially with you and Blaine. I couldn't have asked for better co-stars."

"Which brings me to ..."

"Hey," Matt says as he walks into the living room with Maya on his shoulders.

"Lookit! I'm taller than Daddy!" the little girl throws her hands in the air.

"I've got a thing," he says as she carefully pulls the girl down and sets her on the floor. "I'll come back before I have to head back to LA. Maybe we can have some family time or, you know - " He looks at Rachel and then back to Santana. "Whatever. Just us or just me and Maya. It's up to you."

Santana stands up and walks over to Maya and picks her up as she looks into Matt's eyes. "Call me next time." She purses her lips together. "How long are you in town?"

"Couple days," he says. "And I was trying to include you. You don't have to be a b-." He shakes his head. "You don't always have to do everything the hard way."

Rachel gets up from the couch and narrows her eyes at him.

Santana takes a calming breath. "I'm doing things the right way."

Maya points to her dad. "We're going to go to the beach!"

Turning her attention to Maya, Santana smiles softly and says, "Baby, we can't go to the beach for a while. The beaches are closed here. It's too cold."

"But it's not too cold in Cal'fornia," the little girl says knowingly. "The beach don't ever close there and we're gonna go, right Daddy?"

Matt can't make eye contact with his wife and, after nervously clearing his throat, he says, "That's right baby. When we get home ... "

Rachel bites her lip, feeling a little like voyeur and a lot like an outsider.

Santana stares at Matt with a disbelieving look on her face. "You told her she's moving to LA?"

"She already lives in LA," Matt reminds her. "That's where we all live, Santana. In our home. Just because you can't remember that ... "

"Mama remembers," Maya pipes up. "My room is purple because purple is my favorite."

She takes a deep breath and puts Maya on the floor before looking at her friend. "Would you mind helping Maya get dressed?" She puts on a smile as she looks at Maya. "You can't stay in your jammies all day, baby girl."

Rachel doesn't say anything. She just walks over and puts her hand out for Maya's.

The little girl looks curiously at her parents and then lets the other woman lead her to her room. When they're almost all the way down the hall, the little girl whispers loud enough for her parents to hear, "I don't think Mama and Daddy are best friends anymore. "

Her daughter's words hit her like a ton of bricks, and she narrows her eyes at Matt as she waits for Rachel and Maya to go to the little girl's room. Once she's confident enough that they won't be able to hear her, she whispers harshly to the man in front of her. "I leave you alone with her for ten minutes and you go putting ideas in her head like that? Things that you won't be able to live up to?"

"I'm not moving to New York," Matt says. "And when I have custody, it means she won't be living here, either."

"You realize that judges rarely choose the father over the mother, right..? Especially ones who have cheated on their wives." She crosses her arms in front of her. "There's no way in hell I'm letting you and your family take my daughter away from me. So if this is the way you're going to be.." She chuckles humourlessly. "..just be ready for a fight, because I'm not giving up."

"And how often do they give a little girl to a woman who is in a relationship with another woman? Have any stats on that?" Matt asks, his brows pushing together.

"Well, considering I'm not, that's not going to be a problem, is it?"

"Are you seriously denying it? There are pictures all over the place ..."

"Uhm, of what exactly? Me kissing her? Me holding her hand? Her touching me in any way?" Santana chuckles and the smirks. "Her wearing my jersey, taking a picture of it in the mirror with me clearly in the background and then posting it on Twitter? No, because nothing like that is happening."

Matt clenches his jaw knowing he has no argument. "I have to go but I'll be in touch," he finally says as he stalks to the front door.

"I'm sure you will be." Santana rolls her eyes before making her way to Maya's room. "And leave my key here. This is my apartment."

Rachel hears the front door slam and tightens her arm around the little girl sitting in her lap. Okay, yes. She was supposed to be getting the girl dressed. But the little girl was too preoccupied with trying to figure out what was happening in the other room, leaving Rachel with her only ally: Curious George.

"... what fun it must be to fish! George wanted to fish too."

Santana walks down the hall and into the little girl's room, smiling weakly at the scene in front of her. "Weren't you supposed to be getting dressed, Munchkin?"

"That's my fault," Rachel offers. "I thought, with everything going on, maybe a story would be okay. I'm sorry." She closes the book and gives her friend an uncomfortable smile.

Maya reaches over and tries to the open the book. "Does he get to fish?"

Santana smiles softly at Maya. "Why don't you ask Rachel if she wants to finish the story, huh?"

The little girl doesn't ask. She just looks at Rachel and gives her a pouty face and says, "Please?"

"How about after you get dressed, okay?" the other woman says, smiling fondly at the girl. "Maybe get some fruit salad in you?"

"Okay," Maya says as she lets go of the book and rests her hand on Rachel's. "I wanna go fishing. Then I can have a fish."

Santana chuckles. "You want one of every animal. Next you'll be telling me you want a monkey." She heads over to Maya's closet and picks out an outfit for the girl to wear.

The girl's eyes light up and she hops out of Rachel's lap, rushing over to hug her mom's legs. "Can I have a monkey? For reals?"

Santana chuckles as she shakes her head. "You only hear what you want to hear, you know that, Munchkin?" She bends down and kisses the top of her head. "You can't have a monkey. But we can go to the zoo and see one."

"With Daddy and Rachel?"

The other woman carefully stands up and places the book back on the shelf. With her back turned to Santana and her daughter, she pulls her lower lip between her teeth.

She gives her daughter a soft look. "No, baby girl. It's just going to be us."

Trying her best not to look disappointed, Rachel inhales and smooths down her skirt again. "You know, I should probably ..." She gestures vaguely toward the door. "You've had enough excitement for the day and it's not even lunchtime yet."

Santana turns to Rachel and frowns. "We didn't get a chance to talk about what you wanted to."

"Another time," the woman says. "I'll email the reviews over so you can read them."

Santana takes a deep breath and nods. "Okay." She turns to Maya. "You want to say goodbye to Rachel, Munchkin?"

The little girl frowns before sullenly saying, "Bye."

Rachel kneels in front of her. "Hey, we'll finish the story next time, okay?"

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart."


	10. Chapter 10

Behind the Curtain

The gossip mill is running full tilt and caught in the middle is our new favorite Jekyll & Hyde duo, Rachel Berry and Santana Lopez. Rumor has it that these femme-friends are moving from best friends to special friends – and fast! Don't believe everything you hear about these former high school pals! An insider from Lopez's camp has this to say:

"While Santana would certainly do well with a lady like Rachel on her arm, the truth is they are old high school friends. Good fortune (and a great manager) brought the show - and, in effect, Rachel - into Santana's life. Rachel has proven to be a stalwart friend and has really bolstered Santana's spirits as she navigates this rough path."

Lopez will continue her run as Lucy while Bridget Moyne is on maternity leave from the show. The reviews have been spectacular – catch it while you can!

Santana pours two glasses of red wine. The full-pour, as opposed to her more conservative three-quarter-pour, is a sign of a stressful week. With Maya tucked into bed, Santana allows herself the time to relax a little, to let her hair down – goodness knows she needs it.

"So?" Holly leans back, wine glass in hand. "Tell me you loved my statement. It was a masterpiece, right?"

Santana brings the wine glasses over to her friend and hands one to her friend. "Best you've ever come up with. I'm impressed."

"You like when I'm cheeky," Holly says with a wink. "And, just so you know," she points to her friend. "So far, I think more people are disappointed that you're not dating Rachel than would have been outraged if you were."

She takes a sip and raises her brows. Holding up her glass, Holly says, "This is good."

"It should be. It's fucking expensive." Santana takes a sip from her own glass and furrows her brow at the blonde. "What do you mean people are disappointed?"

Holly shakes her head. "I'd read it to you but I don't want to get up to get my phone. All I can say is that there are a lot of people who want you to be happy." She smiles faux-sweetly and tilts her head. "Awww, fans, right? Super nice. And then there are the people who think two hot women getting it on is sexy."

She swishes her wine in the glass and looks up. "I just can't believe you have more of the first than you have of the second. Happy, do-gooder, rah-rahs."

Santana grins. "I do have the nicest fans." Santana concentrates on sipping her wine and staring in front of her. "So, people would have been happy if Rachel and I were together? There are actually people who wanted it - I mean, no media outrage?"

"Media outrage? Please. If it was true, I'd get you on Ellen - maybe have you tell some romantic tale to Oprah ..." Holly thinks aloud but then stops abruptly and narrows her eyes at her friend. "Why ..."

Santana shrugs. "Just - wondering."

"It would sure be a helluva lot easier than spinning a story of you staying with DBag." Holly curls her legs up onto the couch and stares at her friend. "Okay, but here's the thing ..."

Santana furrows her brow. "There's a thing?"

"There's a thing when you 'wonder.' Since when do you 'wonder'?" Holly asks, not taking her eyes off of her friend. "If you want to know something you ask. Same with me. If I want to know something, I ask."

She uncurls one leg and pokes Santana's leg. "So? You gonna make me ask?"

Santana rolls her eyes playfully and bites her lip nervously as she takes a moment to think how she should break what she's about to say to her friend. "Okay, so remember when I said that – that thing about how Rachel and I were just a fling?" She glances at her feet.

"Yes ... " her friend answers warily. "Are you flinging again? Is there flinging happening and you didn't tell me?"

Santana wrinkles her nose. "That word sounds so wrong." She chuckles nervously and shakes her head. "No, there's no flinging going on. But, I uh, I might have downplayed our history a little. You know, the whole 'fling' thing …"

"So," Holly plays with the stem of her wine glass. "Not a fling. Does that mean something more along the lines of experimentation or are you talking about a relationship?"

Santana tries to play her confession off by sipping from her glass casually. "Uhm, you know, there might have been an 'I love you' exchanged – or something."

The woman on the other end of the couch doesn't say anything. She just stares at her friend and purses her lips.

Santana glances at her friend and frowns. "Are you mad?"

"Mad?" Holly shakes her head, though her curved down lips seem to tell otherwise. "Confused, maybe?" She blinks a few times and then shrugs. "I thought you trusted me."

"I do trust you, Holls. You know I do." Santana gives her manager a soft look. "I wasn't ready to admit that it was more when I told you."

"And you're ready to admit it because ..." Holly catches her friend's eye and tilts her head. "Rachel?"

Santana purses her lips together and shrugs. "Maybe."

Her friend studies her before asking, "So. What happened, then? With Rachel. Why'd your non-experimentational fling end?"

"Short story?" Santana glances down at her feet.

"Whatever story you want to tell me," Holly says. She points her finger at Santana and adds, "As long as it's the real story this time."

"My family. My grandmother, to be exact..."

Santana furrows her brow as she glances at her algebra homework. She sighs and rolls her eyes, regretting her decision to take the honors class in the first place.

"Don't make that face," her grandmother says as she passes by on her way to the fridge. "You're too pretty and too smart to be making that face."

Santana smiles softly at her grandmother. Looking back down at her paper, she sighs heavily and complains, "I just don't get this assignment. I'm gonna call Rachel to get some help."

"I will help you," her grandmother says firmly. It's obviously not an offer from the way her voice pins the statement with finality.

Santana frowns and furrows her brow as she looks into her grandmother's eyes. "But, you have a church meeting ..."

"It can be rescheduled. And even if it couldn't," she closes the fridge and sits down at the table, "you're more important - family comes first."

Though her voice is gentle, there's power behind her words, almost as though she's restraining herself. "Family first," she repeats as she looks into eyes so much like her son's - like her own.

Pursing her lips, Santana blinks to break eye contact and swallows roughly. She knows that voice her grandmother is using right now and she knows that it means business. Questioning her or her motives will only get her into trouble.

But Santana has always been a stubborn child and never one to give in easily. "Abuelita, it's really not a problem. I know how much the church women rely on you ..."

"Maybe," the older woman allows. "But my family relies on my, too. Or is it just that you'd rather get help from your ...," she pauses and folds her hands primly on the table, "friend? Is that it?"

Santana just shrugs. "I was thinking about hanging out with her afterwards anyway. So I just figured we could do homework together, too."

Her grandmother steeples her fingers together and makes a soft humming sound. "And you think that's wise?"

This was one of her favorite tactics: playing patient and acting like someone else's opinion has merit. If there is anything Ana Maria Lopez is known for, it's not her patience nor is it her ability to let others take the lead.

When she asks questions like this, everyone has come to learn, it can only be one thing: a trap.

Santana glances down at the open book in front of her, frowning. She knows she's walking a fine line, but she can't give just give in. "I do homework with Quinn …"

Her grandmother inhales deeply and lets the breath out slowly. "Quinn," she says as she nods slowly. "Why don't you ask her for help? She's a smart girl."

"Because Quinn isn't in this class."

"Then it's a good thing I know math so well, isn't it?" The older woman smiles smugly and leans across the table to look at the book, ready to provide her assistance.

"Abuela ..." Santana puts on her best pout as she looks into her grandmother's eyes.

Leaning back in her chair, the other woman says, "I know a lot of things, Santana. It's my job as your grandmother, as your elder, to share those things with you. Now, I may be old, but I don't suppose numbers and how they work has changed much."

Deciding that arguing isn't going to help, Santana lets out a defeated sigh.

After working through a few of the simpler problems, Santana's grandmother asks, "Is there an issue you're having other than math that I can help you with? Anything else?" It's clear from the way she's speaking that she believes there is.

"Like what?" Santana purses her lips together and her brows push together in confusion.

Her grandmother leans forward and places her hand over Santana's. "I know that your mother and father have raised you to be a charitable person," she begins. "It's a trait I believe is very important and something I consciously encouraged in your father when he was a little boy. You have a very good heart and I am very proud of that. So, if there's a conflict between being a giving, charitable person and the ethics that the church - that your family - has instilled in you. You can talk to me."

Squeezing her granddaughter's hand, she says with her eyes shining hopefully, "I can help you."

Santana glances at their hands and swallows roughly before looking up into her grandmother's eyes. She takes a moment to think about her options. Obviously, her grandmother thinks something is going on – something that has to with Rachel.

Trying not to jump to conclusions about what her grandmother might know, or what she might assume, she takes a calming breath. Ultimately, Santana knows she can't talk about this. What's on her mind is a subject that isn't permitted.

"There's nothing, Abuela."

"Rachel is a nice girl," her grandmother offers kindly. "She didn't have a choice in her situation. Yet ..." she tilts her head to the side, thoughtfully. "She's not my granddaughter."

Looking into Santana's eyes, she continues, "You are. And I'm very proud of the friend you have tried to be to her. But I'm afraid your influence isn't enough, is it?"

She shakes her head again. "Perhaps she's got more influence on you?"

Santana's eyes widen and she can feel how hard her heart is beating in her chest. "What do you mean, Abuela?"

"I mean that you can't lead her away from the sin in which her life was created, Santana," she says easily, almost as though she'd prepared the words. "Her home is a home of sin and no matter how hard you try, you won't be able to undo what has been done."

She looks at Santana meaningfully as she shares her perception of the situation. "At best, you run the risk of losing sight of what you know to be true. What you are trying to do is noble but unachievable."

Santana narrows her eyes and tilts her head, unsure if she understands her grandmother correctly. "You think - you think I'm trying to de-gay Rachel and her family?"

"De-gay? No, no," she replies, laughing softly at Santana's suggestion. "That's impossible. I think we both know that there will always be sheep who will never find their way back to the flock."

Crossing her arms over her chest, her grandmother sighs sadly. "Those sheep, the lost ones are gone, Santana. There is no hope for them. I hate to sound like a non-believer because you know, I know you know, that I am a woman of the utmost faith."

She breathes out and takes her granddaughter's hand again. "You can't bring every lost lamb back to the flock. The best you will achieve is being lost yourself." Looking meaningfully at Santana and says, "And I don't think I could bear losing you like that."

Santana lets out a shaky breath. Though she always believed her grandmother to be a woman who stuck by her family, she had been a constant in her life, she knew that, even more, her grandmother was also a woman who stuck by her beliefs. Even though Santana didn't hold so tightly to those beliefs, no matter how hard her family has tried to lead her, she knows a losing battle when she sees it.

She's being given an ultimatum and her relationship with her grandmother is what she has to lose.

"Are you saying I can't be friends with her anymore?"

"I'm just asking you to think carefully about where your friendship is taking you. That's all." She lets go of Santana's hand and taps her math book. "You're smart. You'll make the right choice."

Santana knows that she's not really being given a choice. In her own way, the older woman is telling her to forget about Rachel. But how is she supposed to forget about the girl who earlier that morning told Santana she loved her?

Santana nods softly and asks, "Can you help me finish my homework, then?"

The older woman's definition of helping was very similar to the adage about fishing: give a man a fish and he'll eat for a day, but teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.

Instead of working through the math problems with Santana, she reiterated the formulas she needed to get her answer. No hints. No clues. Her granddaughter would learn to work it out for herself. That's the way her son did it and it worked out well for him.

To soothe the frustration that comes with hard work (and with math homework in general) and to smooth any frayed edges that may have been created by their talk, Santana's grandmother offers to make a special trip to the store to buy Santana's favorite ice cream for the family to share after dinner. A little something sweet to get rid of the bitter taste of the topic they'd discussed earlier.

It worked when Santana was five and she was certain it would work now.

Santana watches her grandmother leave through the kitchen window, making sure she was gone before doing what she knew she would have to do. Grabbing her letterman jacket from the back of a chair, she puts it on as she makes her way out of the house.

It doesn't take Santana long before she finds herself in front of Rachel's door. Granted, the other girl only lived a few houses away, but this trip seems especially fast. Perhaps it usually seemed longer because normally she couldn't wait to see her girlfriend.

This wasn't going to be one of those trips where they'd end up cuddled together on the couch or giggling as they rested side-by-side on Rachel's bed. There would be no sneak-attack kisses or tickle fights. Santana dreads what this visit will mean and it's made all the more nerve-wracking by the fact that the short walk over leaves her no time to prepare.

Taking a deep breath and steeling herself, she rings Rachel's doorbell and shifts nervously as she waits.

A muffled "I got it!" makes its way through the door a split second before Rachel pulls it open.

"Santana!" The girl smiles widely in surprise and reaches out to hug her girlfriend.

The other girl pulls out of the hug quicker than she usually would and crosses her arms in front of her. "I – y'know, I can't stay long. My grandmother expects me to be working on my homework when she gets back. And she's only out to get some dessert."

"Did you leave a note? Whenever I go to your house, I leave a note for my dads so they know where I am." Rachel can't explain why she's nervous. Perhaps it has something to do with her girlfriend inexplicably jumping out of what should have been a nice hug. Whatever it is, it's got her nervous reflex going before she knows it.

"Remember when Daddy called the police because he thought someone came into the house and stole me? I was really in our treehouse but he didn't know it because I didn't leave a note. Do you remember that? It was a lot of fun up until the police showed up."

Santana blinks a few times at Rachel's obviously nervous babbling. She's known Rachel long enough to know she talks a lot when she's nervous.

Shaking her head, she says, "No, she doesn't know I'm here. And she's not going to, Rachel."

"Are you grounded?" Rachel's can't imagine what her girlfriend might have done to get herself in trouble. Sure, she had a bad habit of talking back; but, never to her family. That was just for teachers she didn't think were very smart or useful.

"No, I'm not grounded. I'm just supposed to be doing homework," she explains quickly. "And I just came over to tell you –" Santana takes a deep breath and looks down at her feet. "I can't do this - be your girlfriend - anymore."

Rachel blinks a few times and then crosses her arms low over her belly. She breathes out a soft, "oh" before looking down at the welcome mat Santana's standing on. "Did I do something wrong?"

Avoiding meeting Rachel's eyes, Santana says, "I just - I can't do it anymore, Rachel. I'm not, y'know." She shrugs before stating "I'm not gay."

"You can be with me and not be gay," the other girl suggests hopefully. "I don't care about what you call yourself. You know that."

"Well, I do." She purses her lips together and then frowns. "I've been feeling bad all day."

Not understanding where this is coming from – or why– Rachel tilts her head as though listening to a very soft sound. It's as though she's paying extra attention to figure out how they ended up here.

"Did someone say something to you?"

"Yeah, kinda." Santana swallows roughly. "Ever since this morning when – y'know, when you said that loved me, I've felt badly - guilty."

Rachel tightens her arms around herself and swallows roughly. "I can't take it back," she whispers. "I wouldn't want to, anyway."

She bites her bottom lip and raises her head to look at Santana. Her eyes are watery and a couple of tears have already made a path on her cheeks.

"You don't love me back, then?" she asks softly.

Santana's breath hitches when she spots a few tears running down Rachel's cheeks.

Even though this isn't what she wants to be doing, she knows it's something she has to do. She doesn't have a choice. If her grandmother found out what Rachel really meant to her, then she'd lose a part of her family. And if she lost her grandmother, who's to say she wouldn't lose the rest of her family, too?

Santana wordlessly answers with a firm shake of her head.

"Oh, because I thought," Rachel begins, but then pauses and shakes her head deciding not to make the other girl feel even more guilty. She can't blame Santana for not feeling something that's she's just not able to feel.

"It's okay," she finally says, nodding furiously and wiping the back of her hands across her cheeks. She puts her game face on as firmly as she can and says, "Thank you for being honest with me."

Holly whistles as she shakes her head. "That's," she blows out another breath, her head still shaking, "harsh. Wow."

She nods her head. "I know. I hated myself for it."

"Doesn't sound like she hated you, though." Holly sips her wine. "Let me guess, you did the friend thing after, right? That's what lesbians do, I've been told. I can't even stand to look at anyone I've slept with let alone try to be their friends ..." She takes another healthy drink.

"We didn't, actually." Santana frowns and also takes a sip of her wine. "The sleeping with each other thing or the friends thing. We didn't do either. I started dating this guy, Puck. I even joined the Glee club for him. She was kinda mad about that because she'd been bugging me to join before-"

"Wait - Puck? As in hockey?" Holly chuckles and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Let me guess, he had big ol' muscles and was everything your daddy - or Grandma - would have approved of."

Santana returns her friend's chuckle and shakes her head. "He had muscles, but Abuela certainly never approved of him. For starters, he was Jewish."

Holly sets her wine glass down as she laughs. "So, let me get this straight," she says, still laughing. "You went from dating a girl to dating a Jewish boy and you thought that would appease your super Catholic family? Oh, Santana ..." She leans back in her seat and smirks as she shakes her head.

Santana rolls her eyes playfully. "Yeah, I know. Not exactly my best plan."

"I so wish you would have told me all of this sooner."

She looks into her friend's eyes. "You know it wasn't because I didn't trust you, right?"

"No, I know your real motive," Holly says, giving her friend a teasing look. "You just wanted to make sure that my love life was the only one we could make fun of on Wine Night. Well, guess what?" She points at Santana. "It's open season now."

Santana looks down into her wine glass. "What am I going to do, Holly?" she asks with a sigh.

"About what, exactly?"

Santana takes a deep breath. "Okay, remember I said Rachel was just a friend? I mean, I wasn't lying. We're not together or anything like that. But ..."

"No." Holly shakes her head. "No. No, no no. Don't do that."

The other woman tilts her head and bites her lip. "Holly ..."

"Santana, who on this couch loves you and will always tell you the truth?"

"Well, considering you're the only one besides me on the couch ..." She chuckles nervously.

"Good call. And who has had enough failed relationships to be able to give good, sound advice about what not to do?"

Before Santana can answer, Holly holds up her hand and says, "I'll give you a hint."

She twists her hand and points to herself.

"What's your advice?"

"You're already thinking about what it'd be like to be with her, right?" Holly asks knowingly. "You've admitted who you are to yourself, you're feeling bolstered by the good vibes from your fans and you wanna jump right in and," she pauses to reach out and take her friend's hand, "and that's great. I mean it. It's amazing and I'm happy for you and blah blah blah I support you forever."

She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. "But you don't even know Rachel anymore. She's not the girl you broke up with in high school. And even if she was, you're not the girl you were in high school."

She squeezes her friend's hand and says, "My advice is to be her friend. Don't get ahead of yourself."

"You're right. I know you are." Santana sighs, puts her wine glass down and rests her head on Holly's shoulder. "Have I ever told you that you're the best manager in the world?"

"Actually, no." Holly jokes. She pouts and looks at her friend expectantly, as though waiting for a formal announcement.

Santana rolls her eyes. "You're totally the best manager anyone could have. And a pretty awesome friend, too."

"And I love you, too." Holly looks around. "Now where did you hide my wine?"


	11. Chapter 11

Santana stares at the door in front of her as she bites her lip. Getting Rachel's address from Blaine had been easy. Finding the building? Really not difficult either.

Gathering the nerve to knock on the door, however, was a completely different story. Holly would be against this if she ever found out. And in the back of her mind, she knew it was a bad idea. But, she couldn't help herself.

"Get a grip, Lopez. You can do this." As she juggles the coffees and the muffin bag in one hand, she uses the other to quickly knock on the door.

From inside, a muffled voice calls out, "I told you that you can just come in, Marley! That's why I gave you a -" The door flies open and Rachel, looking adorably exasperated, finishes her statement in shock. "- key. You're not Marley."

Santana's brows raise and she offers the other woman a tight-lipped smile. "Not Marley. I did bring breakfast, though. So, do I get to come in?"

Rachel blinks owlishly and nods. It takes her another moment before she looks down in embarrassment and takes a step back to allow her friend room to enter the apartment.

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting you," she says. "Obviously."

Santana walks into Rachel's apartment and looks around. "Right, you were expecting Marley."

"No," the other woman answers, closing the door and staring at the back of Santana's head. When the other woman turns to give her a confused look, Rachel explains, "She doesn't always let me know before she shows up. Y'know, kids. Unpredictable and free."

Santana chuckles holds up the bag with the muffins inside. "You still like zucchini muffins, right?"

"I do …" she answers warily before pushing her hair behind her ear. Rachel shuffles her feet uncomfortably as her teeth tug at her lower lip.

Santana catches Rachel's uncomfortable look. "I shouldn't have come, right?" Her gaze falls from Rachel's eyes down to her feet. "Bad idea?"

"No, it's not that. I just - " she shakes her head. "I don't want to sound rude, so please don't think I am, but I can't figure out why you're here."

"Just – y'know, breakfast." Santana bites her lip. "And I thought we could talk."

Rachel sucks in a breath through her teeth. "Talk about ... " She trails off, not really sure if she's awake enough for this conversation.

It's Monday. Her show is dark and that usually means that she stays up well past her regular bedtime and catches up on her shows.

The other woman shrugs. "I guess I just wanted to apologize for Matt just kinda dropping by the way he did. And for us fighting."

"Oh." There's a hint of relief in her reply. "You don't have to apologize, Santana."

Looking for a way to distract herself long enough to get her bearings, Rachel reaches out for the bag of muffins. "Should I warm them up a bit?"

Santana hands her the bag. "Yeah, probably. The coffees should be fine, though. I got you a soy vanilla latte." She smiles softly.

"A soy ..." Rachel wrinkles her nose and giggles. "Wow, I haven't had one of those since," she pauses and tilts her head, "I think since high school."

Santana's smile turns into a frown. "Oh, y-you don't drink that anymore?"

The other woman smiles politely. "I've moved on to something with a bit more kick," she admits. "But this will be nice. A bit of nostalgia, right?"

She plates the muffins and puts them in the microwave. A short zap, she thinks, will be all they need to be warmed up. "I never should have tried Espresso without the frills," she admits. "I've been addicted to Americanos for longer than I care to admit."

With Rachel busy with the food, Santana takes the opportunity to look around the apartment again. The walls hold framed photos of her family with a few mounted Playbills dotted here and there. Her books and knick-knacks are lined up on a white bookcase. Some of the books stand upright and others are on their sides, stacked, with the titles facing out. It looks to Santana a lot like something out of a design magazine.

She turns to look at her friend and smiles as she makes her way to the couch. "This place is really nice. Very you."

"Because it's small?" Rachel asks. "You know, I'm not that much smaller than you."

"Hey, at least you're taller than Maya." Santana's playful tone and the fact that she's chuckling gives away that she's joking. "For now."

The microwave dings and Rachel pulls the plate out. She quickly sets it down and blows on her fingertips. "Okay, a little warmer than I intended," she confesses before she blows out a breath.

"Here," she points to the bar stool by the kitchen island. "Sit down and wait for your muffin to cool."

"Thanks." Santana takes the invitation to sit and places the coffee cups on the counter. "Give her a couple years. Kid's going to be taller than me."

"Takes after her dad, then?"

Santana nods. "In height, yeah."

Reaching over to take her drink, the other woman says, "You know, you didn't have to come over. There's nothing for you to apologize about."

Santana raises her brow. "He came in unannounced and was a dick. And you were witness to it -of course I need to apologize."

"You don't need to apologize for his behavior. And I certainly don't expect him to do it for himself," Rachel says casually.

She sips her drink and as she lowers the cup her eyes close and her lips turn up into a smile. "Now I remember why I loved this drink so much," she notes softly as she opens her eyes.

Rachel gives Santana a soft look before catching herself. Clearing her throat, she asks, "How is Maya doing with all of this?"

"I've been trying to keep her away from most of it. But she's at that age where ..." Santana shakes her head. "She asks a lot of questions. Questions I don't have the answers to."

Had they been sharing coffee in Santana's apartment or even sitting on a bench at the park, Rachel would have debated whether to go for the shallow conversation or to allow herself to reach for some depth. She would have felt like she was testing some boundary.

But Santana came to her – to her apartment. Prompting her friend, she slowly said, "Like ..."

"Like - when will we be going back to LA, when will we be seeing Daddy again, why aren't I best friends with Daddy anymore." She frowns and runs her fingers over the lid of her coffee cup. "She knows something's up."

"She's a smart little girl," Rachel says. "It's a blessing and a curse, right?"

Santana nods. "Yeah." She sighs. "I'll need to sit her down and explain things to her eventually." She picks at her muffin and pops a piece in her mouth.

"Do you know what you're going to say?"

Rachel couldn't imagine being in Santana's position. It was clear to her that the other woman's aim was to always protect her child. And to have to be the bearer of news that might confuse or hurt her, even momentarily, must be a horrible place for Santana to be.

She chuckles weakly and shakes her head. "No idea ..."

Rachel takes a small bite of her muffin and chews slowly. She gives Santana a warm smile and says, "You'll figure it out. You were always really good with that kind of thing."

Santana furrows her brow. "What kind of thing?"

"Explaining," Rachel says simply. "Making something bad seem like it's not as bad as it could be."

Santana narrows her eyes, her lips pursing as she stares at Rachel. "And what does that mean?"

Rachel is taken aback by the tone of her friend's response. "It wasn't an insult, Santana. I just meant that you tend to lean toward giving the more comforting, if not factually lacking, answers to the hard questions."

"Oh, really?" Santana says skeptically. When Rachel scoffs, the other woman crosses her arms over her chest and asks, "When have I ever done that to you?"

"You're joking, right?"

She raises her brow, waiting for Rachel to elaborate.

Not that this visit had been planned; but, had it been, this is not how Rachel would have planned for it to go. They were supposed to be trying to be friends – or at least genial cast mates. "Never mind."

The other woman shakes her head. "No, c'mon. You obviously want to say something."

"It's nothing. Really." Rachel blows out a small breath. "I really didn't mean anything bad."

Santana raises her brows, her eyes still boring into Rachel's. "Didn't sound like nothing."

Rachel sighs tiredly. "I just meant that you'll come up with the right story for Maya. Something that will give her the information she needs without turning her world completely upside down." She looks down at the counter and rubs her finger over a non-existent mark. "It was supposed to be a compliment."

Santana takes a moment to think about Rachel's answer. Even though she really doesn't know much about the woman anymore, she can still sense when someone's not saying what they wanted to. She decides that if she wants to have any kind of relationship with Rachel, she has to let this go. She didn't turn up on Rachel's doorstep to argue with her.

"Yeah, well. It's a good thing I'm supposedly good at this because it looks like I'm going to have to do it on my own."

"Do you really want Matt helping?" Rachel gives her friend a quizzical look. "I mean, no offense, but I don't know that he's got enough tact to handle that talk."

Santana smiles amusedly. "You met him for, like, five minutes."

"Do I need more than that to know that he's like a bull in a china shop?" Rachel tilts her head and gives Santana a look that the other woman knows means that they both know the answer to the question.

She shakes her head. "I never said you were wrong. He wasn't always like that, y'know?"

Rachel shrugs as she pulls a walnut out of the zucchini muffin and looks at it. "Okay."

"He used to be my best friend." Santana offers as she runs her finger over the lid of her coffee cup. She's not sure why it's important, but it feels important to her to defend him – or the who he used to be.

The other woman quickly brings her cup up to her mouth. It's all she can do to keep herself from reminding Santana that, at one time, she also used to be her best friend.

Rachel just gives her a polite nod, instead.

"You know, you never used to be this quiet." It's a statement Santana lets out before she even has time to think about it.

Rachel slowly sets her cup down and looks into her friend's eyes. "I never used to need to be," she says.

Santana frowns. "Is this a you're mad at me thing?"

Rachel's brows push together. "I'm not mad at you. Why would I be mad at you?"

"Because." She lets out a sigh and shakes her head. "You just seem like you're mad."

"Because I'm not running off at the mouth about silver linings and," Rachel presses her lips together and smiles before adding, "angels? That doesn't mean I'm mad. It just means I've grown up."

She taps the lid on her cup, her eyes drifting down to the spot her finger is softly drumming. "This is weirder than I thought it would be," Rachel admits.

"Oh, okay." Santana rolls her eyes and picks at her muffin, popping the piece she broke of into her mouth. "Maybe I shouldn't have dropped by like this."

Rachel frowns and shakes her head. "I wasn't saying that you shouldn't have come over. I'm glad you did, actually." She reaches out to touch her friend's hand but, just before her hand makes contact, she drops it to the counter. "I'm glad you wanted to, but you have to admit that it's a little weird."

"I guess."

Santana takes a moment to think about whether or not she should say what she's thinking. She has a history of letting things go unsaid and a history just as long of regrets. Making up her mind to stop that habit, she says, "I guess I just – I dunno, I missed you. Missed being around you."

"The me who talks nonstop?" Rachel teases before she centers herself and looks seriously at Santana. "I'm glad you came over and I think it's really nice that you brought breakfast and ... " she lets out a little sigh as she raises her cup. "But this isn't me anymore."

Santana pretends not to understand what the other woman is saying. Damn Holly for being right. "What, you don't eat breakfast? Because, honestly, that's not healthy."

"Stop it," her friend says as she laughs and playfully smacks Santana's hand. "I'm being serious." She shakes her head, still smiling.

Santana gives her friend a small smile. "I get it. You're not the same person you were in high school." She looks into Rachel's eyes. "I'm not, either. God, I'm a soon-to-be-divorced mother now." She chuckles weakly. "But that doesn't mean that we can't be friends, does it?"

"I'd really like that, actually," Rachel admits, before clarifying, "being friends."

"Besides, we kind of have to be now. Holly said so in her statement." Santana winks as she smiles. She sips her coffee again as she looks into Rachel's eyes.

"Well, if Holly said so ... " Rachel jokes as she raises her cup, too.

Rachel is halfway surprised when Santana's offer of friendship is genuine. She hadn't really known what to expect from it. Perhaps exchanging pleasantries at rehearsals and backstage? Perhaps a jaunt down to the coffee shop together? All seemed plausible.

She's surprised by how open Santana was with her home and her family. It wasn't at all like the Santana she'd known when she was younger; the Santana who insisted on spending all of their time together in a tree house, away from her house and those who lived in it.

And now it seems as if most of her downtime is spent planted on Santana's couch with either reality television or cartoons playing in the background.

"Hey," Rachel calls out to her friend who is busily cutting fruit for Maya's afternoon snack. "Did you know that E! News has covered four musicians, six actors, two athletes and zero Broadway stage performers? I've been counting ..."

Grabbing juice from the fridge and pouring it into Maya's favorite Pinkie Pie cup, the other woman replies, "I don't understand it, to be honest. I mean, now that I've experienced Broadway, it's pretty intense. You guys deserve recognition."

She brings the bowl of fruit and the cup over to the living area, where Maya is sitting with Rachel.

"I dare you to say that the next time someone shoves a mike at you," Rachel jokes. "Everyone thinks we're divas, anyway. Telling them we deserve attention is like ..." She shakes her head. "I don't even know."

"... and coming up next on E!, we meet Matt Rutherford's newest leading lady. And she's not who you might expect!"

Rachel frowns and reaches for the remote. "Maybe we should watch something else ..."

Santana's attention turns to the TV and she purses her lips together. "It's fine. He's allowed to date whoever he wants."

Rachel casts a nervous glance at the little girl sitting next to her. "Are you sure?"

But before Santana can answer, the show comes back.

"Basketball's newest bad boy, Matt Rutherford, has said goodbye to his socialite mistress and has turned his attention to one special girl ... "

Maya points to the screen and kicks her feet. "That's me, Mama! Lookit!"

"Our cameras caught up with the soon-to-be ex-Mr. Lopez and his daughter in Central Park."

The camera focuses on Matt, who is handing Maya an ice cream cone. He smiles politely for the crew and nudges Maya, letting her know she can say something if she wants to.

"Hi! Daddy bought me ice cream. Are your daddies buying you ice cream right now, too?" the little girl asks as she slips her hand into her father's.

The clip ends and the faux anchor makes puppy-eyes at the camera.

"... so adorable. Matt and his daughter Maya were spotted all over the city having what the Laker referred to as a 'Daddy-Daughter Day.' He's looking smitten and, this time, it's no scandal."

A clip of Santana rushing past paparazzi appears in the corner box on the screen and the anchor finishes by adding, "Santana Lopez hasn't been available for comment."

Santana watches the clip in silence, a frown on her face. Once it's over, she looks at Maya sternly. "Mija, what did Mama tell you to do when there's people with cameras around you. Why didn't you put your head down?"

The little girl's ecstatic smile at seeing herself on the television disappears. "Daddy said I didn't hafta!" she answers, her bottom lip poking out.

Santana immediately tenses up. She had an agreement with Matt: Maya would hide from the paparazzi and not let any of them see her face. She could feel the anger boil inside. How dare he go against what they had agreed? She was trying to protect her daughter. And now her soon-to-be-ex husband was using her to correct his image. "And what would Mama have said if she was there, Maya?"

"But you weren't there and Daddy said there's new rules," the little girl says, her eyes watering as she realizes that she might be in trouble. "There's new rules, Mama. Daddy said!"

Rachel bites her lip and winces.

Santana shakes her head and sighs. She knows this isn't her daughter's fault, so she does her best to not be angry with the girl. Pulling the girl onto her lap, she says, "There aren't new rules, Maya. If daddy ever tells you that again, you tell me. You don't speak to those men. Understand?"

"But they were nice," Maya whines.

"I don't care how nice they are. You don't talk to them."

"But Daddy said I could!"

"Well Daddy was wrong. He shouldn't have said that and if that ever happens again, you tell me." Santana face is stern as she looks at her daughter.

Maya sniffs loudly and crosses her arms. She pouts and looks away from her mother, making it clear that she's not happy.

"Maya, don't you ignore me." She makes the little girl look at her. "You don't talk to strangers."

Rachel blinks rapidly a few times and tries to figure out where she should be focusing her attention. It's not her place to say anything, but she also feels uncomfortable just sitting there, saying nothing at all.

At least she's not eating the fruit. Then it would seem like she's watching them like some cheap entertainment show.

The little girl presses her lips tighter together, refusing to say anything further.

Santana takes the girl off her lap and puts her down on the floor. "Maya, go to your room."

"But, Mama!" the little girl stamps her foot.

"Do you want a time out, Maya Jade? I said to go to your room."

"I never get to have any fun!" the little girl shouts as she stomps away to her room.

Rachel bites her lip and, once Maya is out of the room, reaches over and touches her friend's hand. "You okay?"

Santana shakes her head and takes her hand away as she stands up. "No, I'm not." She quickly pulls her phone out of her bra and dials Matt's number.

Rachel's hand immediately draws back. She clasps her hands together and lets them fall into her lap.

Santana waits for him to answer, and when he does, she immediately starts talking, not giving him the chance to say hello. "What the hell were you thinking letting those creeps take pictures of our daughter? Telling her the rules had changed before speaking to me first?"

"She's my kid, too," he answers. "Is that why you called?"

Santana rolls her eyes. "Of course that's why I called. We discussed this, Matt. We said we weren't going to let her pictures be plastered all over the media. We did that to protect her. And now you're using her for your image?"

"Hey! Hey, what?" Matt shouts into the phone. "I'm not using anyone, Santana. She's my kid and so what if I'm proud of her and want to show her off? It's not hurting anyone."

"It's hurting her, Matt. And don't raise your voice at me." She glares, even though Matt can't see her.

"How's it hurting her? She's happy and she thought it was fun." He blows out a hard breath and says, "You don't get to make the rules for me anymore. And when we're done with all of this, you won't get to make the rules for Maya, either."

Santana can feel herself get angrier with every word Matt says. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "Matt, you're not getting her. No judge in their right mind is going to choose you over me. Maya needs consistency. She needs a routine. So changing the rules now, just because you can, isn't going to do anyone any fucking good."

When Santana raises her voice and the swear words start flying, Rachel gets up and makes her way to Maya's room to check on the girl. She remembers when Matt showed up - and she knows that voices carry really well in Santana's apartment.

"And how is it hurting her?" Matt asks stubbornly.

Santana scoffs disbelievingly. "You're kidding, right? Matt, those guys are creeps. They want to make money by selling pictures of our daughter. Doesn't that seem wrong to you?"

Matt scoffs and says, "I'm not letting them give her candy or telling her to get into their cars. It's a picture. Just a picture. It's not hurting anyone."

Santana raises her voice slightly. "I don't want my daughter's picture all over the internet! Why don't you understand that?"

"She's not just your daughter. She's mine, too."

"Well then stop being a fucking ass and act like it. Protect her." Santana knows her voice is loud. Too loud considering her daughter is just in the other room. But she just can't help herself.

"Stop being such a bitch and trying to control everything!" Matt practically growls into the phone. "You're not in charge. Get over it!"

Santana decides she's not going to take any more and rolls her eyes as she hangs up. She sighs and rubs her temple. She and Matt had never fought like that before – it's a shock to her system. Their relationship wasn't great, and certainly not toward the end, but they never really fought. They were more like best friends than husband and wife. She doesn't get how things can go from that to Matt shouting at her and calling her a bitch.

"Wait here, okay honey?" Rachel asks Maya as she opens the girl's door. "I'll be right back."

Maya pouts. "I don't wanna be in trouble," she whines.

"You're not. I just want to make sure your mommy's off the phone before we go in and interrupt her, okay?"

The little girl continues to pout but gives Rachel a tiny nod.

Peeking around the corner from the hallway into the living room, Rachel asks, "Are you done? Can Maya come out now?" She presses her lips together and raises her brows. "I think she could use a hug ... "

Santana turns her attention to her friend, takes a deep breath and nods. "Yeah, I'm done ..."

Before going back to relieve Maya of her punishment, Rachel crosses the living room and puts her arms out. "You need one first?"

Nodding, Santana walks up to Rachel, opening her arms and letting the other woman pull her into a hug.

Closing her arms around Santana, Rachel rubs her hand over her friend's back. "I'm sorry this is happening," she whispers.

"I never thought he'd be this much of an ass, you know?" She sighs again as she holds the other girl close to her. "Is Maya okay?"

"She's fine." Rachel leans back but keeps her arms around her friend. "I'll go get her, okay? Should I maybe leave you two to have some family time, too?"

Santana shakes her head. "You don't have to leave."

"Mama? Are you still mad at me?" Maya asks softly, her voice timid, from where she's hiding herself pushed up against the hallway wall.

Rachel lets go of Santana and looks over her shoulder, smiling sadly at what's visible of the girl - wild, dark curls and wide, brown eyes.

Santana turns to Maya and gives her a soft look. "C'mere, baby girl." She holds her arms open for the little girl.

The little girl runs to her mother and wraps her arms around Santana's neck. "I'ma be nice now, okay? Don't be mad."

Santana picks up the girl and holds her close. "I'm not mad, mija. I was never mad at you." She kisses her girl's hair. "But, you have to listen when Mama tells you something, okay?"

"Okay ... "

Rachel presses her lips into a thin smile and tugs on one of Maya's curls. "Your mommy didn't tell me what a good singer you are." She looks into her friend's eyes and says, "I was using song as a means of distraction and, really, Santana - she's very good for her age."

When Rachel brings up singing, Santana fervently hopes the other woman veers away from a topic she's been emphatically avoiding. She purses her lips together and nods. "Yeah, she's good."

"You know, there are a lot of kids' shows out there. I bet Maya would have so much fun if she was part of a production with other kids," Rachel mentions casually.

Santana sighs when, as feared, Rachel goes exactly where Santana didn't want her to.

Giving Rachel a warning look, Santana shakes her head. "No."

"I like to sing," Maya announces before resting her head on her mother's shoulder.

Rachel puts her hands up. "It's your call, Santana," she says. "I was just saying that it's a good opportunity and she's got the ability ..."

"And I said no."

"Okay ... " Rachel shrugs and chalks up Santana's tone to her not having a chance to come down after the fight she'd just had with Matt.

"She's not going on stage in front on hundreds of people every night."

"But I like to sing, Mama," Maya interrupts.

Santana gently rubs her daughter's back. "I know you do, mija. You can sing whenever you want. Just not on stage."

The little girl pouts. "You sing on stage," she says. Her tone is a few shades from defiant - she's not quite ready to get in trouble, again.

Rachel grimaces, realizing that, perhaps, her idea should have been voiced without Maya present.

Santana's face is stern when she looks at her daughter. "Because it's Mama's job, Maya."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything ... "

"You shouldn't have, no."

Rachel blinks a few times before softly stating, "I was trying to apologize, Santana. I didn't know it would be a - a ..." she shakes her head, trying to think of the word, "a thing!"

"I gave you a look." Santana answers blandly.

"You gave me a look?" her friend asks with wide eyes. "You nodded! That usually is a sign of agreement, not a warning. And, anyway, I really don't see why it's such a big deal. Kids are on stage all the time."

And this is what happens with Rachel. She starts trying not to cause waves, gets upset and ends up doing a cannonball right in the middle of dangerous waters.

Santana narrows her eyes at her friend and whispers harshly. "I don't want my child on stage. I don't want her getting even more media attention than she already has."

Maya pulls on her mother's hand and, like Santana, speaks in a whisper, "But I wanna sing, Mama."

Rachel bites her lip and rests her hand on Maya's head. "Maya ..."

"I'm a good singer! I like to sing! How come you get to do it?" she asks Santana. "I wanna, too!"

"Maya, this isn't up for discussion, okay?" She gives her a firm look.

"But, mama!" The little girl stamps her foot, her mouth twisting into a pout. "S'not fair!"

Santana crosses her arms in front of her and gives her daughter a stern look. "Maya, stop that right now. Don't use that voice with me."

"It's the only voice I gots!"

Rachel presses her lips together and tries not to laugh. Not only because she knows it's not a good thing to make it seem like she condones Maya's behavior but also because she knows she's already in deep with Santana.

"Maya, honey ..." she starts in an effort to diffuse the situation.

Santana glares at her friend, silently warning her not to interfere any more than she already has before turning her attention back to her daughter. "Go to your room, Maya." Her voice is stern and means business.

"S'not fair!" the little girl repeats much louder than before. She stomps back to her room, her curls bouncing with every step.

She turns back to Rachel with a much harder glare than before. "Thanks a lot."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to -"

Santana holds up her hand. "But you did. Next time, wait until Maya is out of the room before you bring up things like that."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know, okay? It didn't seem like it would be a big deal." Rachel huffs and rolls her eyes. "You made it a big deal."

Santana scoffs "You don't get to have an opinion about this, Rachel. She's not your daughter."

The other woman's shoulders drop and she lets out a long breath. "I know that. I never said she was - I didn't mean to overstep any boundaries, Santana."

Santana sighs and shakes her head. "Just don't do it again."

"Okay," Rachel nods. "I really am sorry. I - I guess I just wasn't thinking." She bites her lips as she starts gathering her things. "I should probably get going. Let you handle things with your daughter ... "

Santana nods. "Yeah, that's probably best."

As she reaches the door, Rachel slides the strap of her bag over her shoulder. She opens her mouth to say something but thinks better of it

The other girl sighs. "Rachel …"

She turns around tiredly. "I really am sorry, Santana ..."

Santana nods. "I believe you." She glances down at her feet. "I just -I'll do anything to protect my daughter."

"Yeah," the other woman replies. "I get that. Message received loud and clear." She gives Santana a soft smile. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Yeah." She gives her friend a weak smile. "Later."


	12. Chapter 12

Santana tightly holds onto Maya's hand as they wait in front of Central Park Zoo's entrance. She likes to think that it's partially a mom-thing; but, there's also the part of her that knows it's a public-eye thing just as much.

Luckily, no photographers followed her car. She had asked Holly to post a fake sighting on Twitter and Tumblr, which seems to have worked. She glances around and smiles at the few people who obviously recognize her.

That's something Santana doesn't mind. She loves her fans and if she can make someone's day by taking a picture with them or signing something, then she will gladly do it.

Maya pouts as she swings her mother's hand back and forth. She's pretty sure it's lunch time. Her belly is telling her it is, at least.

"Mama," the little girl whines. "I'm hungry."

Santana squeezes the little girl's hand reassuringly. "We'll get something when we go in, baby girl."

"Why can't we go in now?" Maya asks, her voice not moving out of whine-mode.

Before Santana can answer, a voice interrupts. "I'm so sorry I'm late," Rachel says, slightly out of breath. "I don't actually have a reason, but I am sorry nonetheless."

Maya wrinkles her nose as she looks up at the woman.

Santana blinks at her friend a few times, clearly not prepared for the impact the other woman's presence would have on her. She knows that Rachel didn't dress up for an outing at the zoo. Rachel wouldn't do that. Well, okay, Rachel would do that but not for an outing at the zoo with a 4-year-old.

All Santana knows is that Rachel looks amazing with her hair curling softly over her shoulders and her perfectly colored lips offering the most friendly of smiles.

There's a part of her that wants to acknowledge it but she has to stop herself. After their last conversation, Santana isn't quite sure where they stand - which is part of the reason she asked Rachel along. She wanted to apologize for over-reacting and wanted to try to get their friendship back on the right track.

Santana swallows roughly and lets out a soft "Hi" not trusting her voice to say anything else.

Rachel smiles her greeting and asks, "You weren't waiting long, were you?"

"Forever and ever," Maya answers dramatically, rolling her eyes away from the woman and toward her mother. "Can we eat now, Mama?"

Santana gives Rachel an apologetic look. "Would you mind if we got something to eat first. The monster in this munchkin's belly won't stop growling."

"Of course not," the other woman replies. "Did you want to go in or get something from a vendor? I saw the falafel guy on the way ..."

The little girl pouts and tugs on Santana's hand. "I want hot dogs!"

Santana glances at Maya. "Baby, Rachel doesn't eat hot dogs. Why don't we get a falafel, huh?"

"I don't like faffel! I like hot dogs," the girl whines before sticking out her bottom lip.

Rachel winces. "If you want to get her what she wants ..."

Santana rolls her eyes and tugs the little girl's hand gently. "You've never even had falafel. How do you know you don't like it?"

" 'cause a faffel isn't a hot dog!"

Rachel shuffles her feet and pulls her lower lip between her teeth.

Santana decides not to argue with her daughter. She knows it won't get her anywhere. "Maya, you're not having a hot dog, okay? We're trying something new. C'mon."

She turns to Rachel and smiles softly. "Where did you say you saw the falafel guy?"

The other woman points over her shoulder. "This way," she says as turns and leads them.

Maya pouts the entire way to the vendor's stand and, when the man tries to cheer her up with a smile, she tightens her jaw and quickly looks away.

Rachel exchanges pleasantries with the vendor before ordering for herself and asking what he might have that isn't too spicy for a little kid.

"I'm not little!" Maya argues.

Santana gives the little girl a warning look before smiling softly at the vendor. "I'll have what she's having."

"And I'll have a hot dog," Maya says firmly.

Santana sighs and tugs on Maya's arm, leading her away from the vendor's stand. When she feels like she's far enough away so neither the vendor nor Rachel can hear them, she crouches down in front of Maya and look into the girl's eyes. "I said no, Maya." Her voice matches, if not exceeds, the firmness she heard in her daughter's voice a moment earlier. "If you keep this up, we're going to go home and not go to the zoo at all."

The little girl answers with another pout. She turns her eyes to the sidewalk as though resigning herself to her fate.

"Everything okay?" Rachel asks when the pair return.

Santana nods her head confidently. "Everything is fine."

"Fine," the little girl repeats, her tone indicating that she doesn't think things are fine at all.

"I hope it's okay, I ordered a water for us," Rachel says as she holds up a water bottle. "I didn't know how you felt about sodas."

"Water's good. How much do I owe you?"

The man holds out the wrapped up pita sandwich to Santana. "Thirteen-fifty for all of it," he says.

"Eight," Rachel corrects as she digs in her purse for money to cover her own meal and the water.

"I got it." Santana quickly rummages in her purse and takes out a twenty dollar bill. "You can keep the change." She hands the money over to the vendor and takes her wrapped sandwich from him.

Rachel furrows her brow, her hand still shoved into her bag. "You don't have to ..."

Santana ignores Rachel's comment and smiles as she passes Maya her falafel. "Thanks." She starts walking back towards the zoo's entrance.

The other woman grabs her lunch and the bottle of water and walks quickly to catch up with her friend. "Thank you, but, you know I really don't mind paying for my own lunch," she says.

"S'cool." Santana smiles softly at her friend. "I asked you to come along, so my treat." She bites her bottom lip. "And, I think I kinda owe you more than lunch. Maybe an apology for the other day, too."

"This has dirtballs in it, Mama," Maya interrupts, holding up her pita. "See?"

Rachel's about to correct the girl but decides to leave it to her mother. She clears her throat before offering a quiet, "You don't owe me anything, Santana."

Santana's brow rises as she glances at her daughter. "There aren't any dirt anythings in your lunch."

She turns her attention to Rachel. "And I do. Because you're my friend. And I didn't treat you like one when I yelled at you."

"I overstepped," the other woman admits. "You're allowed to let me know that."

Maya stares at her food and whispers, "They look like dirtballs."

Santana deliberately ignores Maya's comment and focuses on Rachel. "And I overreacted. When it comes to ..." She clears her throat, not wanting to let Maya know they're talking about her. "… I'm very protective. With my job, I have to be. It's instinctual." She looks into Rachel's eyes.

"It's fine, really." Rachel nods, her lips pushed together as she inhales deeply. "I get it," she finally says.

"And thank you for lunch," she adds, offering her friend a bashful smile.

Later, Santana crouches down beside Maya as they watch the tiger pace back and forth in front of them. "Isn't be beautiful?"

The little girl leans into her mother and nods softly. "Can we pet him?"

Santana shakes her head. "I don't think so, baby. He may look cute, but he's dangerous."

"What about the monkeys?" Maya asks.

Rachel is only half-listening to the pair talk. She's got the brochure completely open and is studying the map. "Santana ..." she says, her voice awed. "They have red pandas." She holds up the map for her friend to see but, without actually pointing at the exhibit, she ends up just showing her the entire zoo. "Red pandas!"

Santana stands up and then picks Maya up to rest her on her hip, chuckling at Rachel's enthusiasm. "Someone wants to see red pandas." She smiles at Rachel and glances at the map, noticing that, in order to get to the monkeys, they would have to pass the red pandas. "Well, we can see them on the way to the monkeys."

"Monkeys first, Mama."

Santana shakes her head. "The red pandas are on the way to the monkeys, baby girl."

"I don't wanna see the red pandas," the girl tries again.

Rachel folds up the brochure and points to a picture of a red panda that she found on the backside of it. "You don't think they're cute?"

"No, I don't like fancy pandas." Maya frowns and looks away from Rachel. "I like plain ol' black and white pandas."

Santana furrows her brow and frowns at her daughter. "Maya, you love all animals. Even spiders and bugs."

"Do they have spiders here?" the little girl asks. "We can see those on the way to the monkeys!" She smiles, obviously proud of herself for coming up with a solution.

"Rachel wants to see the red pandas, Maya."

The little girl huffs and frowns.

Santana narrows her eyes and sighs as she crosses her arms. "Maya, is there something you want to say?"

Maya thinks about it. Usually when her mother asks her something like this, it means she's about to get in trouble.

"No, Mama," she answers softly.

Santana nods her head. "Okay. Then we're going to see the red pandas first, and then the monkeys."

Rachel steps around the little girl and whispers to Santana, "I can come back and see the pandas. We can skip it if she doesn't want to go."

Santana's only reply is a quick shake of her head. "C'mon." She glances at the tiger one more time before turning around and walking towards the red pandas.

Maya swings the hand she has clasped with Santana's. She makes sure to always keep her eyes ahead or on her mother. The one time she stole a glance at her mother's friend, the woman caught her.

A few paces back and keeping her distance, Rachel does her best to figure out why Maya has abandoned her usual warm personality.

As they walk down the path towards the red pandas, Santana spots the black-necked swans. "Maya, look." She points to them and stops walking so that Rachel can catch up. "Let's go see 'em." She takes Rachel's hand and pulls them both toward the swans.

"Like in my book!" Maya notes happily.

For the first time since she arrived, the tension seems to have dissipated and Rachel feels like she can start to enjoy the time she's spending with her friend.

"Excuse me," a timid voice calls out, interrupting the trio's moment.

Rachel looks over her shoulder and notices three teenage girls. Two girls stay in the background while the other nervously blinks as she addresses Santana.

"You're Santana Lopez, right?" she asks.

Santana lets go of Rachel's hand and turns around so that she's face-to-face with the young girl.

She knew that being in the public eye, meant that people would approach her - even at times when she might prefer them not to. Santana wanted a quiet day at the zoo, but she couldn't let a fan down. Smilling warmly , she nods and greets them with a friendly, "Yeah. Hi."

She quickly whispers to Maya. "Take Rachel's hand." She lets go of the little girl's hand and walks closer to the three girls. "Nice day to walk the zoo, huh?"

The girls giggle and nod. "It'd be really awesome if we could get a picture," the lead girl says, shyly smiling. "With you, I mean."

Rachel puts her hand out for Maya's, but the little girl makes no move to take it. "Maya," she says softly. "I really don't want your mom to be mad at me for not doing what she asked ... can help me out?"

She offers her hand again. This time the little girl takes it, though it's clear she's not happy about it.

"I'm nice," she announces, not even sparing a look at Rachel. "I didn't make you get in trouble."

Unaware of the tension behind her, Santana agrees to the photo. "No problem." Santana says with a small chuckle. As one of the other girls takes out her phone, Santana stands close to the girl and wraps and arm around her. "What's your name?"

"I appreciate that, thank you," Rachel says politely. "Did you like your lunch?" she asks, trying to keep the girl occupied.

"No."

"Right," the woman says, pressing her lips together. "It's just that you ate it all, so I thought maybe you liked it once you tasted it."

"No."

"Well," she tries again, "are you having fun at the zoo?"

"No."

Rachel lets out a frustrated breath and rolls her eyes. "Can you say anything other than 'no'?"

Maya looks over at the woman, probably for the first time since she joined them, and blinks at her. Instead of answering, she shrugs.

Once the photos and requisite cell phone case signings are done, the three girls walk off, smiling happily and whispering to each other. When Santana turns around to head back to Rachel and Maya, she's sure she hears one of them squeal, which only makes her smile a little more.

"Sorry about that."

"It's o-" Rachel stops and looks down as Maya immediately pulls her hand out her grasp and pushes it toward her mother

"-kay," she finishes. Trying not to look as confused as she feels, she adds, "Looks like you made their day."

Santana watches Maya suspiciously as she takes her hand quickly out of Rachel's. It only takes a few more moments for her to realize what's going on. It's pretty obvious to her that Maya has decided that she doesn't like Rachel that much, after all. And she can't for the life of her think why. Rachel has been nothing but nice to the little girl. She even stood up for her when Santana said she couldn't be in a show.

Even though she knows she's going to have to have a talk with Maya about her attitude, she lets it go for now. She doesn't often get days like this with her little girl and she'd prefer not to have an argument with her.

Rachel sighs. "You know, I should probably ... " she indicates with her thumb over her shoulder.

Santana frowns. "You're not suggesting you leave again, are you?"

Rachel tilts her head and breathes out heavily. She skirts a glance to Maya and then looks back into her friend's eyes. "It might be a good idea, don't you think?"

"But you didn't even get to see the red pandas..."

Maya shuffles her feet, her eyes trained on the pathway in front of her.

"Only if it's okay with Maya ..."

The little girl rolls her eyes. "You're Mama's guest."

Santana crouches down to look into her daughter's eyes. "Maya, Rachel is our guest. And you invited her, remember?"

The little girl lets out a long-suffering sigh. "Fine." She looks up at Rachel. "Fancy pandas are next if you wanna come."

"I'd really like to, actually. I've never seen them."

"We've never seen them either. Have we, Maya?" Santana kisses her daughter's cheek and stands up, giving Rachel an apologetic look as she does.

"No. We see the monkeys instead," the girl answers.

Santana's expression turns stern at Maya's comment. She crosses her arms in front of her as she looks at the girl. "Well then, maybe we shouldn't go see them. Since we've seen them before, you won't need to see them again."

"No, Mama!" the girl whines. "I wanna see monkeys! Please? We can see the fancy pandas first! Please?"

"Don't whine." She sighs. "Are you going to stop being rude to Rachel?"

"M'not -" the girl starts to argue. She obviously thinks better of it and snaps her mouth shut. A simple nod is her final answer.

"We'll talk about this later, okay?"

Santana struggles to keep her voice firm as the little girl looks up at her. One look in Maya's eyes - wide and sad - and she's a goner. Picking up the little girl, she rests her on her hip and brushes a few stray curls out of the girl's face. "Just be nice, okay?"

Rachel watches their interaction as she chews her lip nervously. She's not sure exactly what she's done for Maya to have decided not to like her - especially after they'd had so much fun reading together and singing.

She doesn't have a lot of experience with kids but she was pretty sure this one liked her.

Which has her second-guessing her judgment skills.

"We'll just take a quick peek so we don't keep the monkeys waiting, okay?" she offers, trying to appease the little girl.

Maya wraps her arms around her mother and gives Rachel a curt nod, coupled with a quiet, "Okay."

Santana starts walking towards the red panda enclosure, and when Rachel catches up to her, she leans into her and whispers. "She's just tired. Don't worry about it."

Later that night, after helping Maya brush her teeth, Santana runs her fingers through the girl's hair and kisses her cheek. "Right, c'mon. Bed time."

"Can we read another story?" the little girl asks as she forgoes getting in bed. Instead, she hops to the bookcase and picks up The Very Hungry Caterpillar and holds it out for her mother.

Santana shakes her head. "No, baby. Mama wants to talk to you about something." She sits down on the girl's bed. "C'mere..."

The little girl holds the book to her chest and frowns.

"Maya..." Santana looks into the girl's eyes.

With a huff, Maya puts the book back on the shelf and, with her pout firmly in place, climbs onto her bed and sits next to her mother.

"Jus' wanna 'nother story," she mumbles under her breath as she crosses her arms over her chest.

Santana rolls her eyes and wraps her arm around her daughter, pulling her into her. "You already had one, baby girl."

"Wan'nother one." Maya leans into her mother, her arms loosening until her hands are resting in her lap.

"Not tonight, okay?" Santana takes a deep breath. "Mama wants to talk to you about what happened today."

Maya looks up at her mother with innocent eyes. "What happened?"

"You know what happened." Santana runs her fingers through the girl's hair. "You were rude to Rachel. Why? I thought you liked her. You wanted her to come with us to the zoo."

"That was 'afore," the little girl explains simply. "But you made me be nice to her. It's okay now," she adds as though it's a fact; a done deal.

Santana leans back slightly to give her daughter a firm look. "It's not okay. Rachel has been nothing but nice to you, Maya."

"Nuh uh!" she argues. "She's mean, Mama! She got me in trouble!" Maya frowns deeply and gives the floor a hard stare. "Lotsa times."

Santana frowns and furrows her brow. "She got you in trouble?" She sighs. "Is that what this is about? You think Rachel got you in trouble, so you don't like her anymore?"

"She ruins everything. I don't like her."

"Hey! That's enough." Santana takes her arm away from the girl's shoulders. "That's not true, Maya. You get yourself in trouble, not Rachel."

Maya considers arguing with her mother, but she doesn't really know how. If she gives in now, she might be able to get another story.

But maybe not because it kind of sounds to her like she might be in trouble. Again.

"You got mad at me because of her, Mama," she finally says. "An' I had to sit in here all by myself and I didn't do anything and Rachel shoulda got sent to my room 'cause I didn't do it."

Santana narrows her eyes at Maya. "I got mad at you because you were talking back to me. Just like you are now, Maya."

"I'm not, Mama." The little girl pouts. "I don't wanna be in trouble."

Santana raises her brow. "Well then, you have to stop talking back, okay? It was attitude and your mouth that got you into trouble – not Rachel."

"Okay," is the muffled reply.

Maya waits a beat or two before looking up at Santana and hopefully asking. "Now can we read the hungry cattahpillar?"

Santana shakes her head. "You've already had a story, Maya. It's bedtime, now." Santana gets off her daughter's bed and pulls back the blankets for the girl to get in.

The little girl scoots backward until she can slip her feet under the covers. She stares at Santana's face for a moment before asking, "Are you mad at me?"

She shakes her head as she tucks Maya in. "I'm not mad at you, Maya. I'm - upset. You've been rude to Rachel for no reason, and she's upset, too. You need to apologize, okay?"

"'kay."

Maya reaches wiggles out of the little cocoon her mother made for her with the blanket and pushes her arms out for a hug.

"I love you, Mama."

Santana gives Maya a soft look and wraps her arms around the girl, kissing her cheek. "I love you, too. I always will. No matter what." She pulls out of the hug. "Have sweet dreams, okay?"

"About hungry cattahpillars that build fat racoons!" Maya's eyes light up as she snuggles back under the covers.

Santana smiles at her and softly corrects her. "Caterpillars and cocoons - sounds like a great dream. G'night, baby girl." Santana walks toward the door, turns off the light, and then turns on Maya's nightlight.

Only a few hours later, the bedroom door creaks open and Maya peeks around it to see if her mother is sleeping. She can't really tell from her vantage point, so she tightens her arm around George, her favorite monkey, and shuffles closer to the bed.

"Mama?" the little girl asks with a whisper.

Santana's eyes open when she hears her daughter's voice. She can't remember when she fell asleep, or how long she's been asleep, but it must've happened when she was reading an article on her iPad. She rubs her tired eyes and mumbles. "Hmm?"

"My tummy hurts," the little girl says sadly. She's moved close enough to the bed that Santana can see her daughter looking up at her with round eyes.

Santana scoots over in her bed and pulls back the covers to let Maya in. "Your tummy hurts? C'mere..."

After placing George carefully on the edge of the bed, Maya makes quick work of crawling up and curling up next to her

"I have butterflies in my belly," she says sadly. "I need snuggles."

Santana wraps an arm around the little girl and holds her close. "Why do you have butterflies in your tummy, baby?"

"'cause you're upset at me," Maya quietly admits. "And 'cause I wasn't being a very good girl." She stretches her arm as far as she can for George, but she's not willing to move away from her mother to grab him.

Santana's heart breaks a little at her daughter's confession. If she was being completely honest with herself, Santana hadn't been upset with the little girl since the moment she said "I love you" and she tucked her in bed.

Santana considers herself a good parent. Sure, she's made some mistakes along the way, but it's always been out of love. She believes she disciplines Maya accordingly. But she knows she's a goner when it comes to Maya's puppy eyes and pout. One look at them and she forgets why she was upset with her in the first place.

And right now, she knows Maya has that exact look on her face. "I'm not upset with you anymore, mija."

"Promise? On Georgie?"

Santana chuckles softly and squeezes Maya gently. "I promise. On Georgie. And do you know why?"

"Because he's the best monkey ever?"

Santana laughs again and shakes her head. "No, I meant why I'm not upset with you anymore." She kisses the girl's cheek. "I'm not upset with you anymore because you know what you did was wrong, and you're going to apologize to Rachel the next time you see her, right?"

Maya nods, her cheek brushing over Santana's collar. "I didn't mean to make Rachel sad."

"I know, baby girl." She rubs the girl's back soothingly.

Maya knows that she's not really supposed to sleep in her mom's bed. She doesn't really know why but usually when she asks, she's told that she has her own big girl bed that's just for her. But tonight she really wants to share.

"Mama?" she asks softly.

"Mhm?" Santana yawns and, when she's done, she doesn't bother opening her eyes.

"Can I stay in here tonight?" Before Santana can answer, she says, "I promise I'll be good and I won't bounce on the bed even one time."

Santana doesn't even hesitate before answering her. "Only for tonight, okay?"

The truth is that Santana's glad the little girl asked. Ever since Matt told her he wants full custody of Maya, she's been having a hard time letting the little girl out of her sight. She just wants to wrap her arms around Maya and never let go.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know some of you think that Matt is up to no good with Maya, but ... sometimes kids are just kids. :) Trust me. When Matt is to blame, it's clear that Matt is to blame. He's no good at covert operations.
> 
> Also? There may be something you'll like in this update.
> 
> Or not.
> 
> But maybe ...

From the entrance to the park, Rachel can see a small group of children playing on the jungle gym. She narrows her eyes and lifts her chin, looking for one specific child. When she sees Maya climbing up the slide, she presses her lips into a thin smile.

"You can do this. You're the adult - she's the kid," she tells herself.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the girl's mother sitting on a bench, her head bent over an iPad. Instead of heading for the playground, she makes her way over to Santana.

"Hey," she says as she approaches. "Am I late again?"

Santana looks up from her iPad and smiles softly at the other woman. "Oh, hey. It's fine." She quickly sends the email she was reading over. "It gave me some time to catch up on my emails."

Rachel sets her bag next to Santana and points to the playground. "Would it be okay if I went over to say hello to Maya?" she asks as she pushes her hair behind her ear.

Santana nods her head. "Yeah, of course."

"I'll be right back," the other woman says pleasantly. Once she's turned away, she takes a deep breath and makes her way over to where the little girl is sitting at the bottom of the slide.

Maya's wiping her feet back and forth in the sand, watching the rainbow pattern she's making when she hears Rachel greet her.

"Hi," she shyly offers in response. This is the part, she knows, where she's supposed to apologize to her mom's friend.

"So, I wanted to talk to you about something," Rachel begins as she crouches down, nearly kneeling in the sand box, in an effort to make eye contact with the girl. "I don't really know what I did to upset you, but I can promise you that I didn't mean to do it." She waits for the girl to look from the sand to meet her eyes and, when she does, she says, "I just wanted to apologize for that, I guess. See if we could maybe try to be friends, again?"

Maya's eyes light up and she smiles brightly. "Okay!" she agrees, jumping up and hugging Rachel.

Santana watches the exchange closely, and when Rachel and her daughter hug, a warm smile appears on her face. Knowing how emotional kids can be – and how they see the world as revolving around themselves – she considered the hug to be a good start in moving past the zoo debacle. It wouldn't be long before Rachel was one of Maya's favorite people again.

"Now go play. That slide looks like it's just waiting for you," Rachel says with a wink.

She watches the little girl scramble away and make her way up the ladder to the slide, before she turns, smiling brightly, and heads to where her friend is sitting. As she gets closer to the bench, she lets out a relieved breath.

"It's nice to know she doesn't actually hate me," Raqchel says, plopping down next to her friend. She gives her a beaming smile and taps the other woman's hand. "So, what are you reading?"

Santana frowns as she hits the button on top of her iPad causing the screen to go dark. "My schedule for next week - I am not looking forward to it. I thought after the tour things would calm down a bit."

She raises one shoulder in a half-shrug before gently knocking it against Rachel's shoulder. "And don't worry about Maya. She's a good kid. And she knows when she's done wrong."

Rachel's brows furrow. She's not really sure what her friend means about Maya knowing when she's done something wrong. She decides to let it slide, though. There's no reason to make any waves when, at least for the moment, the little girl seems to be okay with her presence again.

"Mama! Rachel! Lookit me!" the girl shouts before launching herself down the slide.

Rachel chuckles under her breath and gives the little girl a thumb's up.

Santana raises her voice. "Good job, baby girl." She smiles brightly at her before turning her attention back to Rachel, chuckling softly.

"Your run is ending and everyone wants to snap you up, huh?" she asks Santana.

"I don't know about that."

"Please, you're Santana Lopez," Rachel says, as though that explains everything.

"Sometimes I just want to be Santana." The woman puts her iPad back in her bag and gives Rachel a soft smile. "But I know photoshoots and interviews come with the package, so I power through it."

"And you do so with grace," the other woman says before looking away and focusing on Maya. "Not that I've noticed or anything," she jokes.

"I bet you secretly watch all the interviews I do." She nudges Rachel's arm gently with her elbow before turning her attention to Maya.

"It's supposed to be a secret?" Rachel asks, her eyes widening innocently before she starts laughing.

Santana laughs along with her friend. "If you have a collection of photos from the shoots I've done, I'm officially calling you a stalker." Her playful tone lets Rachel know she's joking.

"I'll admit to nothing," Rachel says, holding her head up high and jutting out her chin. She giggles for a moment before added, "Except to say something I'm sure you've figured out."

She presses her lips together and nudges her friend with her shoulder. "I'm really impressed by you. And I don't just mean your career. The way you're bringing up Maya to be so open and forgiving."

Santana furrows her brow. "Forgiving?"

"I'll be honest, I don't really know what I did to upset her," Rachel begins. "But she still accepted my apology-"

"Wait … your apology?" Santana dips her head and narrows her eyes as she studies Rachel. "As in, you apologizing to Maya and not the other way around?"

"Right," the other woman says, slowly drawing out the word. "Was she supposed to?"

"Yes. Of course she was."

Santana stands up, raising her voice as she glances at Maya. "Maya. C'mere..."

"It's okay, Santana. You don't have to ..." Rachel trails off as Maya runs over.

"Did you see me, Mama? I went down the slide on my belly!"

Santana smiles at her daughter. "I did." She pats her lap for Maya to take a seat.

Once the little girl does, she looks into her eyes. "So you apologized to Rachel, huh? Like Mama said?"

"Um," Maya draws out, rolling her eyes up as though she's thinking.

Her mother raises her brow, waiting for the little girl to give her an answer.

"No?" she finally answers.

Rachel's eyes skirt from the girl to her mother. "San," she begins, hoping to stop anything that might cause tension with her friend's daughter.

Santana shakes her head. "Maya, we talked about this - about you apologizing to Rachel. You said you would."

"But I didn't hafta!" The little girl points to Rachel as she explains. "She did it first!"

The other woman presses her lips together to stifle a giggle.

It takes everything inside Santana to keep a straight face. She's serious about her daughter apologizing to Rachel, and she knows that if she starts laughing, she'll lose her authority.

"But Mama said you had to apologize. You were rude to Rachel, for no reason. I still want you to say you're sorry, Maya."

The little girl puffs up her cheeks before blowing out a big breath. She'd seen her mother do something like it before and feels that this would be a good time to try it.

"I'm sorry I wasn't nice to you," she finally says. "'Specially if you were sad 'cause of it. But you don't look sad so I'm not as sorry as I would be if you were."

Santana pokes the girl's leg and looks at her sternly. "The last part wasn't needed."

"It's okay," Rachel says not trusting herself to say much more without laughing. "I appreciate the sentiment."

"'kay, I'ma go play now!" Maya shouts as she tries to wiggle off of her mother's lap.

Santana rolls her eyes as she shakes her head and releases the girl from her arms. She watches Maya run off and turns to glance at Rachel. "My mom really deserves an award for raising me."

"You were always a good kid," the other woman says. "Just like Maya. She's a good kid and you're really doing a great job with her." She shakes her head. "I don't think I'd be able to do it, I can tell you that."

Santana shrugs. "If it was your kid, you would. You'd find a way, and try your best."

"Maybe."

Rachel is quiet for a moment, her eyes drawn back to where Maya is playing. She watches the girl try to climb up the slide only to slip all the way back to the bottom.

"I might be too selfish."

The other woman nods as she chuckles softly. "I was, too. It was something I was worried about. But in the end, I didn't have to. It just - it happened. Without my knowledge, without me over-thinking it. As soon as she was born, she came first. It's natural."

"Maybe ..." she repeats.

Rachel's eyes widen when the little girl slips all the way down and off of the slide. Maya gets up, dusts off her knees and starts climbing again.

"And that didn't seem to freak you out at all." Rachel shakes her head. "If I ever do go down that road," she says, pointing to Maya, "you'll be on speed dial for advice and pep talks."

After taking her eyes off of Maya, Santana glances at Rachel. "Everything's dangerous when it comes to your child. You've just got to learn to concentrate on the dangers that really matter."

"Strangers with candy and vans ..." Rachel says softly. "That's what Dad used to say to Daddy whenever he'd freak out about something. 'Just be glad it wasn't a stranger with candy and a van, Le.' "

Santana nods, and turns to watch Maya again. "And with us being in the public eye, it's a much bigger threat. Especially now..."

Rachel takes a deep breath. "In case I didn't apologize enough before -"

Without thinking, Santana places her hand on top of her friend's and squeezes it gently. "You don't have to apologize."

"I realized after that I was thinking like me," Rachel explains, her eyes dropping to where Santana's hand rests against hers. "I grew up on stage and, for the most part, I really love the childhood I had. But if I had been thinking like you," she inhales sharply and shakes her head. "I would have realized that putting Maya in the spotlight, no matter how talented she is - and she really, really is - isn't in her best interest."

She looks up to meet her friend's eyes and wrinkles her nose cutely. "Like I said, kind of selfish."

Santana tilts her head to the side. "You were thinking about how much fun Maya would have being on stage. So, not really selfish." The woman squeezes Rachel's hand once more before releasing it.

Rachel clasps her hands together, not enjoying at all the way the cold seems to have come out of nowhere to chill her fingers.

"You know, I saw a hot dog vendor on my way into the park," Rachel muses. "Has Maya eaten lunch yet?"

"She hasn't. We were going to grab something on our way home." Santana smiles. "But I'm sure Maya would love the idea of a hot dog for lunch."

"Okay," the other woman says as she stands up and offers her friend a hand. "My treat."

Santana reaches out and lets Rachel pull her up. "Fine," she allows, "but on the condition that you come to wine night at my place tonight."

"Wine night?"

"It's a thing," Santana says. "You'll love it."

"So, wine night," Rachel begins before raising the glass her friend handed her and sniffing the Cabernet, "it's a thing for you and your manager? A tradition?"

Santana pulls her legs up onto the couch as she sips from her glass. "Mhm. It was a thing we decided to do to get to know each other better." She wrinkles her nose. "She isn't usually this late, though."

Rachel kicks off her heels, brings her legs up and leans sideways against the couch cushions. "Maybe she prefers a less crowded wine night – doesn't like the extra company," Rachel offers.

"What?" Santana gazes into the other woman's eyes. "Is this because of what happened in my dressing room? Because I told you; she was just looking out for me."

Rachel shakes her head but doesn't break eye contact. "No," she draws out. "Though, now that you mention it, that would seem like a good indicator that I'm right." She looks down briefly into her glass before catching her friend's gaze again, "And while I'm very happy to share some wine with you, I don't want to intrude."

Santana shakes her head. "You're not intruding." She takes a deep breath. "Look, you and Holly are my people, okay? My people need to get along. I want her to like you."

Rachel blinks softly at the news that she's one of Santana's people. She knows she used to be one of Santana's people but, somehow, she missed the notification that she'd been given that title again. How long has she been one of Santana's people? And why didn't anyone tell her?

"Okay," is all that she manages before hiding her smile with her wine glass.

"Besides..." Santana delays the rest of her sentence by taking another sip of wine. "…who couldn't love that smile of yours?"

The other woman shakes her head and giggles. "You haven't had enough wine to start flirting with me," she warns jokingly.

Before Santana can respond, her cell phone interrupts.

Santana chuckles. "Hold that thought."

She reaches over and picks up her phone from the coffee table. As suspected, it's her manager. Probably to tell her she was stuck in traffic. Without waiting any longer, she quickly answers the call. "Since when is Holly Holliday ever late for wine?"

"Since she was on the phone with Matt Rutherford's manager," Holly comments slyly. "But it's nice to know you miss me, honey."

Santana furrows her brow and lets out an exasperated breath. "What did he want?"

"Mostly? To get off the phone with me, I guess," the other woman laughs. "Oh, dammit! Why didn't I record the call? You would have loved it."

"Holly, you know I love you, but I don't have the patience to put up with Matt's crap." Santana gets up and starts pacing, unsure of what she should be expecting from this conversation. "I'm just not up for anything over-the-top right now."

"You better not be telling me you can't handle being a single mom," Holly warns, her voice teasing. "I didn't just spend an hour berating your soon to be ex-husband's manager so that you can tell me you're not up for the responsibility."

"Single mom? Wha-" Santana's heart starts beating faster. "Wait – what are you telling me? Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I'm telling you that I can't make it tonight," her friend replies drolly. "Is that what you thought I was saying because that's what I'm saying. I have too much work. My boss is a slave driver, you know."

Santana frowns and furrows her brow. "Holly …"

Holly lets out a long-suffering sigh. "I have to order courier service for the divorce papers, I have to draft a press release that not only expresses your amicable split and ability to work with D-to-the-Bag in coming up with a custody plan that is in the best interest of your child - and that means you have sole custody, darling - but I have to do it without making it seem like I had his manager by the balls and don't have complete and utter disdain for your future un-intended."

She takes a breath and sniffs. "And I totally did – I so had them both by the balls. I don't even need your gratitude for this because that was reward enough. I made him squeak, Santana."

Santana lets out a shaky breath, a wide smile appearing on her face. "Please tell me you're not shitting me right now. You're really serious?"

Rachel sets her glass down, gets up from the couch and walks over to her friend. She gently touches Santana's arm and whispers, "Everything okay?"

Santana nods her head. "Holls, you need to tell me again. No jokes. Just tell me."

"It's over," Holly says firmly. "They don't want anymore bad press. One of his team mates beat the crap out of someone. It's hitting, no pun intended, tomorrow." She clears her throat. "More bad press about an ugly custody battle between a cheater and one of America's sweethearts doesn't work for his team anymore. He's letting Maya go to save his career but Santana," she pauses, "I promised you'd let them have their time. Weekends, coupla weeks in the summer, maybe a holiday to or two ..."

Rachel's grip on her friend's arm tightens. "What's going on?" she whispers impatiently.

"It's really over? I get to keep her?" Santana's voice breaks under the strain of her emotions.

This is what she had been hoping for: sole custody of her little girl. There hadn't been a moment in her life where she had felt more relieved. If she was alone, she'd probably do some sort of happy dance.

Rachel's heart jumps in her chest. She lets go of her friends arms and then claps her hands together as she hops a few times in place.

"It is. So save me some wine because I want a rain check," Holly says. "I have to go. I have to get this stuff drafted and I don't want to be up until midnight unless it's for something fun. And don't you have too much fun tonight. I've only got time to put out one fire tonight, honey."

"Holly, I love you so fucking much right now. You don't even..." Santana takes a deep, shaky breath to stop herself from crying. "Just - thank you, Holls. I don't know how I'll ever repay you."

"Don't need it," Holly says, with a warm laugh. "I appreciate it, sweetie, but I don't need it. I did it because I saw the opening and because, y'know, that whole pesky thing about how much I love you and whatever." She pauses for a beat and adds, "And I love making men squeak."

"Best manager - and friend – ever. Seriously, Holls." Santana genuinely says. She grins at Rachel and, for a moment, is struck by how the other woman is smiling brightly at her. "Hey, Holls," she finally says, "I'm gonna let you go."

"Yeah yeah," Holly says before "hanging up now before your appreciation turns into a crush."

Rachel bites her lip, her eyes wide as she waits for her friend to get off the phone. She's doing her best to be patient but she's bursting at the seams to know what's happening - in detail.

Santana keeps her eyes on her friend as she tells Holly,"Sorry, but you're not my type. Still love you, though. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

As soon as she disconnects the call, she squeals, drops the phone onto the couch and quickly closes the distance between her and Rachel. Grabbing her friend, she pulls her into a tight hug and Rachel finds herself being lifted from the ground.

She lets out a surprised squeak and then starts laughing before clasping her hand over her mouth. "Shhh," Rachel admonishes her friend. "You'll wake up Maya," she whispers through her giggles.

"I don't care!" Santana giggles and buries her face in her friend's neck, breathing in a scent that had become familiar over the past weeks. Fresh, light, and so Rachel.

The other woman's hand, as though having a mind of its own, lifts to gently cup the back of Santana's head. "You do so," she says. "She's not old enough for wine night yet!"

Santana takes a deep breath as she pulls back enough to look into Rachel's eyes. "I just - you have no idea how happy I am right now." Before she thinks about it too much, she quickly leans in and presses her lips against Rachel's.

The other woman's brain registers what's happening a split second after her lips do. And the hesitation there is so minimal that her brain now has to figure out who gave the order to return the kiss.

And who told her fingers to do that with Santana's hair?

When her fingers don't untangle themselves right away, her brain gives up. No one seems to be listening anyway.

Santana cups Rachel's cheeks and ignores the part of her that questions how they got there.

She doesn't know what made her do it. All she knows is that she's wanted to do this for weeks. Even before, if she admitted to possessing a primal side. It was there at the concert when she saw Rachel for the first time in years and again when they met in the theater.

With weeks of pent up frustration - weeks of longing - she's finally able to take this step.

Confusion begins to cloud all of the sensations that Rachel would prefer to pay attention to. It's not like she hasn't been wanting this to happen, maybe even bordering on wishing. She has. Definitely.

Even as her lips twist against Santana's, her mind is elsewhere.

At the zoo, standing next to the gate and watching Santana drink from their shared water bottle. Then at park, sitting next to her friend and trying not to notice, tan, slender fingers sliding across the iPad screen.

But those times, like right now in Santana's apartment, weren't supposed to be like that. They were friends. Old friends becoming new friends. Or something vague and non-committal.

Rachel finally finds the strength to pull away. She smiles sheepishly before hugging Santana tightly. She uses that time to come back down from the kiss before whispering, "I'm so happy for you."

Santana lets out a shaky breath as she holds Rachel close. Her heart is beating fast, and all she wants to do is pull back and attach her lips to Rachel's again.

But she thinks better of the idea.

She remembers what Holly said about taking things slow. She doesn't want to rush Rachel or scare her away – though the way the other woman was kissing her didn't give her the indication that Rachel was going anywhere – and she certainly doesn't want to screw this up. Instead of allowing herself to bend forward to reconnect their lips, she settles for burying her face in Rachel's neck as she hugs her.

"Mama?" a tiny voice calls out.

Rachel turns to see Maya peeking into the living room from the hallway.

The little girl rubs her tired eyes and squints at her mother and her friend. "Are we dancing?" she asks, pointedly looking at how the two women are standing together. "I wanna dance, too."

Santana's breath catches in her throat when she hears her daughter's tired voice. She's lucky the girl interrupted when she did. Any sooner and she would have walked in on something Santana would have a hard time explaining to the little girl.

Freeing one of her arms from around Rachel, she smiles warmly at Maya and reaches out for her. "C'mere, baby girl."

The little girl's curls bounce freely as she hurries to Santana's side. Rachel reaches down and plays with her hair as the girl pushes herself against her mother.

"There's no music," she notes plainly.

Rachel springs one of Maya's curls before stepping away from the pair. "As if you need music to dance," she says with a wink.

Turning her attention to Santana, she smiles shyly before saying, "I should let you two talk." She squeezes her friend's arm. "I really am so happy for you."

Santana picks Maya up in her arms and rests her on her hip before looking into her friend's eyes. "Are you sure? You don't have to go ..."

"I'm sure." Rachel nods, as though punctuating her statement. "We'll finish up another time."

She hesitated for a moment, half-tempted to explain that she meant their wine night and not - the other stuff. But if she explained that, then she might be talking herself out of someday getting to finish whatever it was they might have started tonight.

"I can show myself out," she offers with another squeeze to her friend's arm.

Santana watches Rachel grab her things and make her way towards the door. "I'll see you tomorrow."


	14. Chapter 14

The events from the night before keep turning over in Santana's mind. She'd wanted to talk to Rachel about it but there wasn't time. Arriving to the auditorium later than she planned, Santana couldn't get to Rachel's dressing room before the other woman started her vocal exercises. Before she knew it, they were on-stage performing their duet.

The applause echoes into the backstage area as Santana follows Blaine and Rachel off-stage after the matinee curtain call. With a few hours to kill before they have to come back and get ready to it all over again for the evening show Santana thinks this could be the perfect opportunity to talk to her friend.

"Hey, Rach?"

The other woman touches Blaine's arm as she interrupts him with a quick, "hang on." She turns to Santana and smiles sweetly, showing the other woman that she has her attention.

Santana smiles sweetly back at her. "You were pretty awesome out there."

"Thank you," Rachel replies, her head tilting shyly. "You were, too."

Blaine's eyebrows push low over his eyes. "We were all pretty great, huh?" he asks with a teasing smile. "A great bunch of actors, that's us!"

Rachel rolls her eyes to give him a side-glance.

He presses his lips together and claps. "Well, I've gotta ... with the stuff ... away from here. So." After nodding once, he adds, "See ya' later, ladies."

Rachel simply shakes her head as she watches him walk away.

Santana watches him, too, and when he's almost out of sigh, she turns her attention back to Rachel. Realizing that what she says next might set the tone for the rest of their conversation – and possibly the rest of the evening – she inhales deeply.

Unsure how to approach what she wants to say, Santana opts, instead, to delay the inevitable. "So, d'you - have any dinner plans at all?"

"Dinner?" Rachel echoes as she tilts her head in surprise. "No, I was just going to order something and eat in my dressing room. Did you have something in mind?"

Santana bites her lip and shrugs. "I was thinking we could, y'know, if you wanted we could grab something - together."

"Yeah, that'd be nice," Rachel replies almost too quickly. She takes a quick moment to clear her throat and center herself. "Give me a few minutes to get changed?" she checks as she points her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of her dressing room.

They part just long enough to get into their street clothes and then meet again in the hallway. Though Santana is familiar with the city – she bought her apartment long before her taking this stage gig – her restaurant knowledge is a little thin. Matt was always the foodie of the family.

It's a good thing for her that Rachel knows exactly where she wants to go.

"Ms. Berry," the host greets her happily. "You didn't tell me you were coming!"

"I didn't know, Leo," she replies with a friendly smile.

Leo holds out his hand for her and nods at Santana. "Luckily, your table is open. Unless you want to sit by someone else?"

Rachel turns to her friend, her eyes wide and round, and asks, "Is it okay? I usually sit by Fanny Brice."

Santana gives her friend a soft look. "No, it's cool."

"They don't have Barbra," Rachel explains sullenly.

Leo escorts the woman to the table and pulls out a chair first for Santana and then for his usual customer. "Maybe she's waiting for your picture to go up first. Then she knows where she wants it, right?" He winks at Rachel.

She giggles and waves him off.

Santana watches the older man converse with the woman in front of her. Chuckling softly, she narrows her eyes playfully at him. "You better watch out with the flirting, Mr. Leo. I'm not sure I like the competition."

Across the table from her, Rachel blinks a few times at her friend, unsure how to take her comment or the easy way it fell from Santana's lips.

"My wife might have a problem with it, too!" he says good-naturedly. Clearing his throat and making a show of getting back to business, he says, "Water with lemon for Ms. Berry. And what can I get for you?"

"I'll have the same." Santana smiles softly at him. When she turns her attention back to Rachel, she furrows her brow at the look on the woman's face. "You okay?"

"Hm?"

Rachel blinks yet again before her eyes meet Santana's. "Oh, I'm fine. I guess I'm just coming down from performance high." She gives her friend a thin-lipped smile even as her mind churns over Santana's comment.

Santana doesn't dwell over Rachel's answer and decides to quickly change the subject.

"So, have you thought about doing any other shows? I mean, Artie pretty much loves you, so he's not going to let you go easily."

Rachel pulls the napkin from the table and places it in her lap. "I'm always thinking about doing other shows," she admits. "But if I left this one, it would have to be for something original or a really major revival." She shrugs. "I'm happy where I am and with my current cast."

She rolls her eyes dramatically and then looks Santana in the eye. "Even if I'm about to lose my co-star."

"You're actually getting her back," Santana teases, reminding her friend Bridget is actually the co-star and she's simply filling in until her maternity break is over.

"I suppose," she replies. Rachel recognizes the opportunity she's been given and quickly takes it. She'd wanted to ask so many times before but wasn't sure how to lead into it until now. "What are you going to do next? Head back to Los Angeles?"

The question catches Santana off-guard. She's even more surprised that she hadn't thought to anticipate the question. If nothing else, Rachel is a planner – this much she knew. Rachel likes to know what's going to happen. This shouldn't be a surprise.

"Uhm." She shrugs. "That's - I don't know what I'm doing yet." She smiles as she looks meaningfully into Rachel's eyes. "But New York is looking more and more appealing."

The other woman catches her bottom lip between her teeth and tries to hide her smile. The thought of Santana staying - a thought she's allowed herself to indulge in more than a few times - coupled with the intense stare she's receiving is enough to make her have to catch her breath.

Rachel smiles gratefully as the server sets their waters on the table. She uses the distraction to ground herself before she says, "I'm glad you're thinking of staying. I've gotten used to having you around."

"I mean, I'm going to have to go back to LA some time. To deal with things. But," Santana smiles. "I like the idea of sticking around here."

Rachel raises her glass in a toast. "To sticking around."

Santana joins the girl and raises her own glass. "To sticking around."

The other woman watches Santana as she sips her drink. It's strange how Rachel feels caught between being completely comfortable with her friend but also is also teetering on the edge of nervous at the same time. That's the part, Rachel realizes, that can't tell what this outing is supposed to be.

She's sitting in Sardi's, at her favorite table with her former best friend, who is also her ex-girlfriend, who is also her cast mate and - Rachel can't quite figure out how to classify the other woman.

She's half-tempted to just let herself consider it a date. If it looks like a date and acts like a date ...

After putting her glass down, Santana runs her finger over the rim of it.

"So, exactly how often do you come here? Leo seems to know you pretty well." She chuckles.

"You really don't want to know," Rachel says with a laugh.

Rachel's answer makes Santana chuckle again. "Let me guess. Still no good at cooking?"

"I live in New York City," the woman answers indignantly. "With so many amazing restaurants and so many all-night delivery options, why should I learn how to cook? I feel like I'd be looking a gift horse in the mouth or taking for granted what this wonderful city has to offer."

"I actually find it a good way to relax." Santana sips her water.

Rachel laughs again before covering her mouth and trying to contain her giggles. "Then you don't cook the way I do." Her brows lift. "Flames, charred messes and a lot of naughty language."

The other woman tilts her head, her ears perking with this new information. "Naughty language, huh?"

Rachel nods. "The last person I tried to cook for thought I was making goddamned pasta with goddmaned effin sauce."

Rachel's inability to use the "eff" word is somewhat of a joke. Friends who have known her for years claim that they will never consider her a native New Yorker until they hear her use a string of expletives that includes that word used as a noun, a verb and an adjective.

"Well then," Santana picks up her glass again and sips from it as she gazes into Rachel's eyes. "I think you need to cook for me." She places the glass back on the table.

"You have a thing for burned noodles, huh?" the other woman jokes. "Because, really, I've retired my cookware. If you'd like, I can order something, plate it and present it to you as though I cooked it. Your stomach will thank you ..."

Santana shakes her head as she smirks at Rachel. "Nope, I want effort. I want a three-course meal, and I want you to suffer through every second of preparing for it." She chuckles.

"I'm not the one who will be suffering in the end," Rachel notes. "Now, if you wanted to cook and, I don't know, needed a sous chef or something. I'm an excellent chopper. I chop really well."

"I might actually take you up on that offer. Although, Maya's usually my sous chef. But she doesn't get to chop, so..."

"How is Maya?" Rachel asks. She hadn't stuck around the night before to find out if Santana talked the little girl about what was happening with her family. "Did you tell her the news?"

Santana nods. "I did. Well, as much as I could. She adores Matt and I didn't want to upset her."

The other woman nods in understanding. What a strange line Santana must have had to walk in explaining what was going on without vilifying the girl's father.

"How is she taking it?"

"As well as I thought she would." She smiles softly. "There was danger of tears, but once I explained she'd still get to see him, she seemed to calm down and was actually pretty excited about the idea of staying in New York."

"A bi-coastal baby," Rachel comments with a nod. She leans forward, her face suddenly very serious. "Don't tell her I called her a baby."

Santana's face turns serious, too. "I would never." Just as quickly as her demeanor turns serious, it switches right back and she flashes Rachel a brilliant smile and giggles softly.

"Good. Our truce is tentative and I don't want to do anything to tip the balance."

"I don't think you have anything to worry about." Santana reaches over for the girl's hand and squeezes it.

Rachel does her best not to let her eyes flit down to her hand. She wants to look - to make sure that Santana is really holding her hand and that she hasn't made it up - but she also doesn't want the other woman to think it's not welcome and to retreat. She finds that if the tilts her head just a fraction of an inch, her peripheral eye-line confirms the reality of the situation.

"What makes you say that?" she asks, her mind grasping for anything to take her focus off of Santana's hand on hers.

"I just think you two got off on the wrong foot, that's all. And now I've talked to her about it, it's going to be fine."

Feeling somewhat bold, Rachel lets her thumb slide across Santana's knuckles. "I hope so."

Santana doesn't reply, she just keeps her gaze steady on the other woman's. She's pretty sure that, if they weren't in public right now, her lips would already be on Rachel's.

Dinner goes much more quickly than Rachel prefers. As their dishes are being cleared, she has half a mind to ask her companion if she's up for dessert - anything to lengthen their time together.

But she knows they have another show. She knows that they have to get back, get into costume and do their warm ups. Rachel has never before wanted to play hooky so badly.

"I suppose we should start heading back," she says.

"Is it bad for me to say I kinda don't want to, and that I just want to stay here?" She chuckles and runs her fingers through her hair. "I'm having too good of a time to want to leave."

"No, it's not bad," Rachel says warmly. "It just means that we'll have to do it again, sometime. Maybe when we have more time to enjoy it?"

She looks hopefully at Santana and wonders if next time they'll actually use the word date. Rachel has never been big on labeling things - a fact that has led her to heartache in the past - but there's a pull that she can't resist when it comes to this woman. And if she can put a label on it, maybe she can start to understand it and enjoy it.

Santana smiles warmly at the other woman. "I'd love to."

It doesn't take them long to get out of the restaurant. Santana insists on paying, even while Rachel loudly protests about the need to pay her share of the dinner. But Santana won't hear it. She invited Rachel to dinner, so she was going to pay – anything to keep from breaking the illusion that this is less than a date.

They walk hand-in-hand down the street, and Santana doesn't even mind when a few people glance at them. For the first time, she's happy to let people think what they want to.

Rachel, on the other hand, doesn't have attention to spare for passersby. She's catching every word Santana utters, she volleying back comments and she's doing her best not to swing their linked hands. It's no easy task to keep the giddiness in check.

As they round a corner, the cold breeze blows over them and Rachel hugs her friend's arm to her chest for warmth. "Wasn't expecting that," she says softly, a small shiver shaking her.

"Oh, hey, d'you want my scarf? I lived in LA for years so I'm used to going out without one, even in cold weather." Santana gazes into her friend's eyes and squeezes her hand.

"Are you sure?" the other woman asks.

Santana nods her head and starts unravelling her scarf from around her neck. Once it's off, she stops walking, and pulls on Rachel's hand to stop her, too. She takes great care in bundling up the other woman.

"Thank you," Rachel softly says, offering the other woman a tiny smile. "Your chivalry has been noted," she teases. She curls her arm around Santana's and gently pulls, indicating that they should start walking again.

Santana follows the her friend's lead, walking closer to her. "This has been a pretty amazing couple of days."

"I don't really see how it could get much better right now," Rachel begins. "Unless someone just happens to drop a Grammy off at your doorstep." She giggles and gives Santana a cheeky smile.

"I'm really happy for you, San," she says more seriously. "I know it was rough for a while but you've really handled everything with so much grace. You deserve all the good things you get."

Santana gazes into the other woman's eyes. "Thank you, Rach. I really appreciate that." Santana side-hugs Rachel's arm softly. "You too, y'know? And hey, maybe Tony is on its way to you."

Rachel shrugs. "I guess the one I have could use a friend ... "

Santana's eyes widen and she gasps. "You've already won a Tony?" She rolls her eyes. "Why am I surprised? Of course you have. You totally deserve it."

Rachel shakes her head and laughs. "It's sweet you think I deserve it when you didn't even know I won it or for what role." She playfully pushes her shoulder into Santana.

Santana shrugs. "Doesn't matter. You deserve it, no matter what."

"If you ever want to go into public relations," the other woman jokes, "I'll hire you. That's the kind of backing I need."

Santana chuckles. "I'll remember that in case this singing thing doesn't work out."

"So what you're saying is that I'm on my own," Rachel double-checks, "and that I should keep my eyes open for a good publicist."

Though she has a manager, she's found little reason to find representation with a publicity firm. Rachel's popular in the theater world, but that kind of popularity doesn't require much managing.

It's not like she can't just call up Sardi's and have Lou hold her table. Why pay someone to do it for her?

"Well, if you ever need it, I'm sure Holly would love to help you out. She's amazing at what she does." Santana smiles at her friend.

"Contrary to popular belief, the life of a Broadway star isn't as glamorous as you might think. If I branch out, which I doubt I'll ever do," she says, "I'll think about it."

Spotting the theater ahead, Rachel sighs. Time just seems to be flying.

"... and here we are," she notes. "Back where we started."


	15. 15a

Santana walks into the living room and gives Holly an apologetic look before plopping herself down on the couch beside her. "Sorry that took so long. Apparently one song wasn't enough."

"It never is," Holly says with her eyes trained on her friend. She watches her as though she's looking for something in particular.

The other woman furrows her brow. "Why're you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" Holly blinks but her gaze remains the same.

"Like..." Santana vaguely waves her hand in front of her friend's face. "...that."

Holly's shoulders lift before she raises her wine glass to her lips. "I was just wondering if you were going to start glowing or something. I was told people glow when they're in love." She wrinkles her nose and tilts her head. "Or is that just for pregnant ladies?"

Santana should have guessed Holly was going to tease her. It's what their relationship had always been like. It's how they worked. And honestly, Santana wouldn't change it.

She chuckles and rolls her eyes, before shifting on the couch so she can nudge her friend's leg with her foot. "Quit it."

The other woman shakes her head. "How about," she begins with a smirk, "no. While it's not very challenging, I have to say, teasing you is super fun!"

Santana shakes her head as she picks up her wine glass. "You need to find someone so I can tease you." She sips her wine and squints as she tries to think back to the last time Holly had someone in her life.

"Bite your tongue," the other woman says. "I have all the someones I can manage right now." She sips her wine and winks at her friend over the rim of the glass.

From where she's laying on the floor, Maya is only catching every few words. Why Holly wants her mommy to bite her tongue is completely beyond the little girl.

"Your best friend slash client and her daughter don't count." Santana sips her wine again and smiles warmly at the woman next to her. "You need to get laid." She shrugs.

Holly raises a brow. "You're not offering are you? What would the little missus think?"

Santana rolls her eyes playfully. "You wish."

The other woman chuckles and shakes her head. "Feels too close to incest for my liking," Holly says. After allowing herself a few longer sips of wine, she leans back and drapes one arm over the back of the couch. "So, who else knows about this date?"

"Uhm, you?" Santana chuckles as she settles herself into the couch a little more. "And I don't really know if we're calling it a date." She shrugs. "It just - it was just really nice."

Maya scoots forward in a tiny army crawl and then drops her cheeks into her palms as she listens.

"You asked her to dinner, you paid," Holly begins. "It was totally a date." She holds up a slender finger. "Did you kiss her? You'd tell me if you'd kissed her, right?"

Santana avoids looking into Holly's eyes as she sips her wine. "No, I didn't kiss her." She holds her glass up to her lips again, and mumbles against it. "Tonight."

Holly's arm shoots out so fast to slap her friend's leg that she even surprises herself.

In her little corner, Maya wrinkles her nose and sticks out her tongue. From everything she's seen, kissing is gross. She eats with her mouth. Why would she want someone else's mouth where her food goes?

"Ouch!" Santana sets her glass on the coffee table and pouts slightly as she rubs her leg where her friend slapped it just seconds ago.

"Since when do you keep things from me?" Holly asks. "Aside from the whole downward spiraling marriage thing, I mean. And, really, you should have told me about that." She looks into her friend's eyes. "Really."

"I already told you. I was ashamed. No one likes to admit their marriage was a joke." Santana takes a deep breath. "And it wasn't really a kiss." She wrinkles her nose. "Well, it was but, I don't know if it meant anything to Rachel."

Holly leans back and rolls her eyes. "Did you kiss her or didn't you? I'm not far enough into that wine bottle to be this confused ..."

Maya rolls onto her back and stretches her arms over her head. She just barely covers her giggle as she tries to picture her Aunt Holly inside a bottle.

"I kissed her. But it was right after you told me about Matt. I meant to kiss her, and I've wanted to do it ever since, but I don't know if Rachel thinks it was just because I was happy, or because I wanted to. We never really talked about it."

Maya wrinkles her nose at the thought of her mom kissing Rachel. It's weird because her mom is supposed to be kissing her dad. She thought about how her mom told her how that wouldn't be happening anymore so, the little lets herself relax and get used to the idea of Rachel being her mom's new best friend who gets kisses.

"So, it was a real kiss disguised as a celebratory kiss," Holly reasons. "And then you went on a date before the evening show ..."

"Technically, we never actually used the word date."

"But you want to."

"Maybe..." She bites her lip as she gazes into Holly's eyes.

"If you can't say it, you don't want it enough," the other woman states simply before taking another sip. "What did I tell you the first time I heard you sing? Do you remember?"

Santana squints as she thinks. "Uhm..."

"Don't pretend like you don't hang on my every word." Holly teases before she sighs and looks into her friend's eyes. "I told you that if you wanted to make it, I'd help you. But I made you say it, right? I made you tell me that you wanted to perform sold-out shows. I made you tell me that you wanted to be a star."

She holds her glass up and adds, "Which you are, by the way."

Santana thinks about her friend's words, and once she takes a deep breath, she gazes into Holly's eyes. "Alright, fine. I wanted it to be a date."

"Hallelujah," Holly says, throwing one arm up into the air. "She's seen the light!"

The little girl listening in from her spot on the floor quickly peeks around the wall to try to see what lights her auntie is talking about.

Santana nudges Holly with her foot again and chuckles softly before whispering to her. "Shush, you'll wake up Maya."

"Speaking of," the other woman says, "as long as we're talking about who knows what and how much what knows who knows ... " She stops and thinks about what she just said and then, after replaying it, nods to herself. "What are you going to tell the munchkin? Unless you've come out to her."

Holly pauses. "And don't bother lying and telling me you did. I know you didn't because you haven't called me in a panic about it. So. You didn't do it, yet."

Maya squints in confusion. Adult conversations are so much harder to follow than the conversations she's used to on the playground or on Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.

Santana tries to not let her inner panic show as she shrugs. "I was just – I wasn't going to say anything and hope she wouldn't ask?" She gives her friend a hopeful look.

Holly watches her friend and then her mouth drops open in realization. "You're serious. You're actually serious? Santana ... ."

Santana sighs softly. "I'm not actually being serious. I just don't know how to tell her."

As the conversation shifts to a much more interesting topic than kissing, Maya scoots a little closer to be able to hear better. From her new spot, she's able to peek around the corner and see her mom and auntie on the couch.

"Try this," Holly suggests with an even voice, "Mommy's gonna be gettin' her mack on with Rachel because Mommy prefers kissin' the ladies."

Santana narrows her eyes at her friend. "Yeah, that's exactly how I'm going to tell her."

"She's your kid!" the other woman says, shaking her head. "She's not going to care who you're getting into a lip-lock."

Maya's wrinkles her nose again, a tiny shudder running through her small frame. "Icky!"

Santana's eyes widen when she hears the little voice, and she shifts on the couch, until she spots her daughter peeping around the corner. She puts on a stern face and raises her brow. "Maya, why aren't you in bed?"

The little girl quickly scoots backward, out of sight and closes her eyes.

Holly presses her lips together and whispers, "Bright side - now you don't have to worry about telling her."

It hadn't occurred to Santana until Holly mentioned it that Maya probably heard what they were talking about. She didn't know how long her daughter had been listening in, but she knows it was long enough to have at least heard something that qualified as icky. Santana knows that she's going to have to have this talk if she doesn't want her daughter to get the wrong idea.

She takes a deep breath and sighs. "Maya, c'mere, please."

Maya peeks around the corner and squints at her mother. "Am I in trouble?" she asks.

Santana shakes her head. "No, you're not in trouble. But you shouldn't have been listening in on conversations when you should've been in bed."

Maya huffs as she gets up. "But I can't hear you from my room," she says. "I had to get outta bed, Mama!"

Santana furrows her brow. "Why did you need to hear me, baby girl?" She pats her lap, letting the little girl know it's okay for her to come over and sit down on it.

The little girl's hesitancy vanishes and she rushes over and climbs up onto her mother's lap. "I 'unno," she says. "I just like to."

Holly smiles warmly at Maya and says, "You know we never have fun without you right? Whenever you're not here, we make sure to be extra super boring so that you don't miss anything." She holds up her glass and adds, "It's why we need this, actually." She chuckles lightly before taking a sip.

Santana wraps her arms around her daughter and nods. "It's true. You're not missing anything." She kisses the girl's temple before taking a deep breath. "What did you hear, Maya?"

"Nothing fun," the little girl admits. "Just gross stuff."

Santana chuckles softly. "About kissing?"

Maya nods and grimaces. "I don't ever wanna have anyone put their mouth on mine." She looks up at Santana and says, "I haffa eat outta there!"

Santana tickles the little girl's side. "I'm pretty sure you'll change your mind, Mija." She looks into Maya's eyes. "Did you hear who Mama was kissing?"

Holly leans back into the armrest and settles in. She'd never actually say it, but she loves these moments. She loves watching Santana forget about trying to be a good mother and watching her so effortlessly just do it.

The little girl nods. "I hope you brushed your teeth after."

Santana lets out a little chuckle. She doesn't want to laugh, because she knows Maya will get upset with her. So she concentrates on what she was planning on telling her daughter.

"So, you know Mama kissed Rachel, right?" She continues to look into the little girl's eyes. "Mama kissed Rachel because she likes her. And she wants to do it again. And if Rachel wants that, too, then maybe she's going to be spending more time with us." She runs her fingers through her daughter's hair. "Is that okay with you, Munchkin?"

"I guess so." After a beat, she tilts her head and asks, "Did Daddy say it's okay? 'cause I think you should ask him if you're 'llowed to kiss Rachel."

Holly eyes widen and she clears her throat. "Hey!" she says a little more loudly than she planned. "Maybe I should get going, huh?"

If there's anything Holly knows about, it's make a quick exit. She's got escape plans for bad dates, parental visits and even business meetings that go from high stakes to boring.

Santana turns her attention to her friend and frowns slightly. "You're leaving? But you've only had one glass."

"If I stay, I might need the whole bottle," Holly says.

Maya frowns. "Don't go." She scrambles out of her mother's lap and into Holly's. The other woman holds her wine glass up to keep it from spilling.

"Trapped," she notes, smirking at the little girl.

Maya nods. "Now you haffa stay."

Santana shrugs at Holly and smiles at her. "Little girl has spoken."

"Mama?" Maya asks suddenly. "Is a girl's mouth cleaner than a boy's mouth?"

Santana blinks a few times. "Uhm no." She glances at Holly before turning her attention back to her daughter. "No, girls' mouths aren't cleaner than boys'."

"I think hugging is nicer. You can hug a long time and you don't have to rinse your mouth out after," Maya says knowingly.

"Oh, yes," Holly says enthusiastically. "Hugging is so much nicer than kissing," she smiles brightly at Santana as she talks, "don't you think?"

Santana nods. "Definitely. Stick to hugging, Mija."

"So you're just gonna hug Rachel then?" the little girl asks. "Daddy would be okay with that because he lets you hug Auntie all the time."

"Baby girl, c'mere." Santana pats her lap again.

Maya frowns. She's hesitant to get up because she doesn't want Holly to leave. With wide eyes, she looks up at her auntie and says, "Don't leave. You haffa help tuck me in after we have fun."

Holly raises her hand and draws an x over her chest. "Cross my heart, kiddo."

The little girl smiles brilliantly before maneuvering her way back onto her mother's lap.

Santana cuddles into her daughter once Maya sits on her lap. "D'you remember when Mama told you that we'd be staying here, in New York. And that Daddy was going to stay in LA."

"Yep! I get to take ballet and tap!"

Holly's eyes widen in surprise. "You said she could take dance classes? You didn't tell me that part."

Santana glances at Holly and waves her hand vaguely at her. "Later..."

She turns her attention back to the little girl on her lap. "D'you remember why? D'you remember what Mama said?" She looks into the little girl's eyes. "Mama said it was because Mama and Daddy aren't in love anymore. We love each other, and we love you, but Mama and Daddy aren't together anymore." She runs her fingers through the girl's hair. "Do you understand, baby?"

"I guess," the little girl answers, though it's clear that she's mostly just saying she understands.

Santana knows her daughter is proud, and she's not going to admit to not understanding something. So, just to clarify, and so there's no confusion, she adds. "Mija, it means that Mama can kiss whoever she wants, and Daddy can kiss whoever he wants. Just like I said before, we won't be kissing each other anymore."

"Oh." The little girl tilts her head. "Okay."

"Are you okay with that, baby girl?"

Maya shrugs. "I guess so."

Santana hugs her daughter tightly. "Y'know we still love you, right? And that this isn't about Moma and Daddy – and not about you."

The little girl sinks into her mother's embrace and nods. "Yeah."

Holly winks at Santana and gives her a thumbs up.

She kisses the top of Maya's head and smiles softly at Holly. "Alright, Munchkin. I think it's time to go back to bed, huh?"

"Aw, Mama," the little girl whines.

Santana tickles the little girl's sides. "C'mon, if we go now, I'll sing another song for you, okay?"

"Maybe that one from the Little Mermaid," Holly suggests, her eyes lighting up. "Oh, what was it called?" She playfully rolls her eyes and then, with a quick snap of her fingers. "Ah! Kiss the girl!"

Santana looks at her daughter seriously. "Maya, Mama gives you permission to smack Auntie Holly." She narrows her eyes at her friend.

The little girl giggles and points at her auntie as she sing-songs, "Oooo, you're in trouble!"


	16. 15b

Marley leans against Rachel's door as she sends the text she had just written. She had been knocking on her cousin's door for five minutes, but there's still no answer. She knows her cousin is home - it's only 6:34 in the morning, after all.

She figures Rachel must still be sleeping (hence the coffee in the cup holder she balancing in her other hand). If she's waking up Rachel at this time of the morning, she needs to bring something to ease the pain.

[Mouse] Morning, Rabbit. I'm sort of standing outside your door right now. Tried knocking, but I think you're still asleep Please let me in. Xx

A soft beep permeates Rachel's dream. Her subconscious tries to ignore it, but thanks to her iPhone's persistent double-notification habit, she's pulled out her sleep the second time her phone makes a noise.

She squints at the screen, her eyes almost closing again, and tries to make sense of the message she's reading. "Let you in?" she asks no one as she re-reads the text.

[Rabbit] Are you joking? You're joking, right? Go back to sleep, Mouse.

She puts the phone down but when she hears a loud knock on her door, she sits quickly sits up.

[Rabbit] Was that you?

Okay, so Marley hadn't exactly told Rachel she was dropping by this morning, but she knew her cousin would be okay with it.

After the call she had gotten yesterday evening, Marley knew she just had to see Rachel in person. It was the only way she was going to get the truth out of the girl. And her mother hadn't taken as much convincing as she thought she would. Her only stipulation was that she wait until the morning.

Technically, a 4:11 AM departure was morning, right?

When she receives the texts from Rachel, she chuckles and shakes her head.

[Mouse] Not joking. Mom said I could visit. Promise. Please open the door. Xx

Rachel swings her feet out of the bed and, with only a few hours of sleep behind her, finds herself dragging to the door. She leans up on her tip-toes and then curses under her breath when she remembers that she can't see out of it - and won't be able to unless she grows another inch or two.

She slowly opens the door and peeks out, her eyes widening when she sees her cousin. "This is the weirdest post-performance dream I've ever had," she says as she unlatches the door chain. "Come in."

Her cousin gives her a grin as she walks in, and holds up the coffee cups. "I brought coffee. That makes things better, right?"

"If coffee comes with more sleep," Rachel comments, taking one of the offered cups. She holds the cup up to her nose and inhales deeply. "Ohmigod, that's so good."

She's not sure what it is about coffee but all she has to do is smell it to get its re-energizing effects.

"I didn't even know coffee houses were open this early," she remarks off-handedly. Rachel Berry is many things - an early riser is not one of them. Not with two shows, an after party and a performance high that keeps her up for hours after curtain.

"Is it rude if I ask why you're here?" she asks. "Or should I just ignore that part and be happy that you are?"

Marley gives her a look as though Rachel should know exactly why she's here.

"Are you kidding me, Rabbit? I can barely contain my excitement right now, and you're asking why I'm here?" She can't keep her smile from widening as she walks over to Rachel's couch and plops herself down on it.

Rachel scratches her forehead and squints at her cousin. "I'm really good about things like birthdays, Mouse. So, I know it's not yours. And I'm pretty sure it's not mine." She winces. "I have no idea why you're so excited."

Marley's eyes widen. "The date?!"

"The date ..." Rachel repeats, staring at her cousin. Her eyes widen and she starts to laugh. "You came all the way to New York to talk to me about my date with Santana?"

Marley starts to pout. "Don't laugh. This is huge, okay? My cousin went on a date with Santana freaking Lopez."

The other woman takes a seat and sighs. "She didn't really call it a date," she begins, letting out a tired sigh. "So, it might not have been a date. She didn't kiss me again, so I can't judge it by that."

Marley's eyes widen even more and she gasps. "Oh my god, you kissed?!"

"No, I just told you. She didn't kiss me." Rachel pulls her feet up under her. "That's why I'm not sure if it was a date. Even though," she closes her eyes and lets her head roll back to rest against the couch, "it really felt like one."

Marley reaches over to poke her cousin's arm. "You said again. She didn't kiss you again."

Moving her arm out of poking range, Rachel simply sighs. "I don't know, Mouse," she admits. "She kissed me a couple of nights ago when we were hanging out at her place. But it wasn't about me. It was about Maya, so I don't think it counts."

That kiss is something Rachel replays in her mind fairly constantly. She almost believes that if she can just remember every detail, she can figure out what it meant.

"I'm sorry you came all this way, Mouse. Kind of disappointing, huh?" she finally says, blinking her eyes open and staring at the ceiling.

The younger girl gives Rachel a sceptical look. "Wait, what do you mean the kiss was about Maya and not about you?"

Lifting her head and letting her gaze settle on her cousin, Rachel explains, "I don't know what I'm allowed to say. So, just know that Santana was very happy about something and I just happened to be within celebrating distance." She lifts her hand and taps her finger against her lips.

She rolls her eyes and playfully smirks. "It was a nice celebration, though."

"She's a good kisser, right? I mean, I just assume she is, because she has really nice lips." Marley shakes her head meeting cousin's eyes, again. "Okay, so you kissed. Then what? Did you talk about it? Did one of your run away? Did someone try to bring it up but the other wasn't having it?"

The other woman points to Marley and sternly says, "No more Lifetime Channel for you." She shakes her head to punctuate her point.

"There was no running away or anything. Maya woke up and Santana needed to try to explain the situation to her," Rachel says. Realizing that her explanation could be misconstrued, she quickly adds, "Their personal situation, not the kissing situation. Maya doesn't know about the kissing."

Marley's smile turns into a pout as she looks into Rachel's eyes. "And that's it? You didn't talk about it afterwards?"

Rachel shakes her head. "But we had a nice time last night and it was almost like old times ..." she trails off, a gentle smile pulling at her lips as her eyes seem to focus on something far away.

"So, in old times," Marley raises her brow, "you used to go out on dates?"

The other woman's calm demeanor slips away. Her eyes come back from that far off place and she finds herself staring at the coffee cup in her hands, her fingers plucking at the lid.

"I don't know if they were dates," she admits softly. "I'd never really been with anyone before so I just kind of thought any time we were together was a date."

Marley tilts her head at the woman beside her. "How serious were you about her back then?"

Rachel blinks a few times. "Too serious," she admits. "But I was really young for my age. I just didn't know it. "

Santana runs her finger over flower petal as she waits for Rachel to join the in her tree house. It was their thing. Every morning, without fail, they'd meet there before rushing off to school. Sometimes, one of them would bring breakfast, sometimes it was just coffee. Almost always, it involved soft kisses and promises to do their best to see each other during lunch, and if not then, after school.

"Hey," Rachel says softly, her head appearing through the little trap door at the top of the ladder. "Sorry, I'm late. I stopped to get you something." She holds up a paper bag with a fast food logo on it.

Before pulling herself all the way into the tree house, Rachel takes a quick look over her shoulder to make sure no one saw her make her way into the Lopez's back yard. No one's there. No one's ever there. But she checks anyway.

Santana gives her a soft smile and her eyes widen as she glances at the logo on the paper bag Rachel's holding. "Is that a breakfast burrito?

The other girl nods and holds up her other hand. "And orange juice."

Santana's smile widens. "You know exactly what I like. You're amazing."

Rachel's face lights up and she beams at her girlfriend. She never asks for compliments but whenever Santana gives her one, she can't help the swelling in her chest and the warmth that rises in her cheeks.

"I just thought you might need a little something before school. I know you have practice this morning," she says softly. "That's all."

As she hands the bag over, she says, "I like taking care of you."

Santana takes the bag from Rachel, pulls the burrito out of it and wastes no time digging in. After she's eaten a mouthful, she smiles softly at her girlfriend.

Her girlfriend.

Santana was still getting used to the idea. They haven't been together long, and the idea of having a girlfriend still scares Santana a little, but she has to admit that Rachel's been nothing but amazing.

"I like you taking care of me." And it's true. Santana does. Especially when there's breakfast burritos involved.

The other girl looks down and pushes her hair behind her ear. "Good."

Rachel sits on the wooden bench that Santana's dad built into the wall of the tree house and scoots close enough to wrap her arm around Santana's free arm. "You were really good at last night's game. I bet Coach Sylvester takes the "co" away from Quinn and makes you captain soon."

Santana chuckles softly. "Thanks, Rach. But I'm pretty sure Quinn would flip her shit if that happened. As much as I want to be captain, I'm not sure if I want Quinn making my life a living hell."

"But you're better than she is," the other girl says. "And I'm not just saying that, so don't say I am."

Santana shrugs. "She's a mini Sue. I'll never be better than her in coach's eyes." She cuddles into Rachel. "Thanks for thinking that, though." She takes another bite of her burrito.

The other girl frowns. "As though being a mini-Sue is a good thing." She shudders. "It's deplorable the way that woman plays favorites. Someone should really knock her down a peg."

Santana takes a deep breath. "Yeah, well, it's not going to be me. I like my co-captain spot too much to lose it." She rests her head on Rachel's shoulder.

The other girl lets her head rest against her girlfriend's and she lets out a slow breath. "I wish you didn't have to settle, is all," she gently says.

Santana lets out a small sigh. "It's fine. As long as I have you."

"Of course you do," Rachel says fervently. "Always."

She drops a quick kiss to the top of Santana's head and waits for the other girl to look up at her. When she does, Rachel gives her a wide smile.

Santana gazes into Rachel's eyes. "Remember when you said you thought you'd be a great girlfriend. Well, you weren't wrong." She leans in and places a quick kiss on Rachel's lips.

With a giggle, the other girl replies, "That's as close as you'll ever come to saying I'm right, huh, San?" She rolls her eyes playfully and wrinkles her nose. "I'll take it."

Santana giggles along with the other girl. "Good, because that's all you're going to get." Her tone is playful as she winks.

Rachel curls her arm around her girlfriend and squeezes her tightly with one arm. "I love you, you know that?"

Santana's breath hitches at Rachel's words. Out of all the things she had expected Rachel to say, that wasn't one of them. She curses herself, because of course Rachel would say she loved her. She should have known.

But she didn't, and she hadn't prepared herself to hear Rachel say those words yet. They hit her like a ton of bricks, and suddenly she was crashing back down to reality. As she looks into Rachel's eyes, the only words she can muster up is "Me too."

"I know," the other girl says sweetly.

It may not have been the declaration she had hoped for but she didn't blame Santana. It's not like Rachel had planned to tell her girlfriend that she loved her. If she'd planned it, she would have probably included a flower or maybe even a song. Well, definitely a song because, even though Rachel's vocabulary was extensive, she often found song lyrics best fitting for emotional situations.

This would do, though. With her arm around Santana, having brought the girl her favorite breakfast food and sitting in their tree house ... Rachel wasn't going to complain about the lack of romance or the fact that the tree house kind of smelled like bacon.

Marley frowns as she looks at her cousin, crossing her arms in front of her. "You might have been serious, but it doesn't sound like Santana was."

Rachel looks away and stares at a spot on the floor. "I can't speak for Santana."

Her lips are pushed tightly together and she blinks a few times, unwilling to meet her cousin's curious gaze.

"So, that's a no." She gives her friend a concerned look. "What makes you think she's serious this time around?"

Rachel exhales slowly. "Nothing," she admits.

After a moment, she shifts her position on the couch until she's facing her cousin. "But I keep thinking about how different I am now. How I'm not the same girl who gave her heart away so easily and then just let Santana give it back without a fight. And if I'm different, then maybe she is, too."

Marley reaches out to take her cousin's hand. "Yeah, she's different. Was married to a guy and has a kid different, Rabbit."

"That doesn't - " Rachel stops abruptly knowing that she can't out her friend to Marley. "That doesn't have to mean anything. I can't explain it, Mouse. But I really don't think I'm imagining things or being blinded by wishful thinking."

"She never said it was a date, right..?" Marley bites her lip.

"No," the other woman concedes. She lets out a defeated sigh. "She didn't call it a date."

Maryley frowns and gentle says, "I really don't want you getting hurt."

Rachel nods and puts her other hand on top of her cousin's. "Thanks, Mouse," she finally says before inhaling deeply. With a quick squeeze to Marley's hand, she lets go and gets up. "So, you must be tired ..."

Marley shrugs. "Not really. I slept on the train." She gives Rachel a soft look. "But you are. You can go back to sleep."

With a shake of her head, Rachel says, "No, I'm up now." She tilts her head and asks, "You're not going to let this change anything, right? I mean, with what you know about Santana and how you felt about her before. Because I really don't want that. You should think she's great - because she is. I don't want you to think otherwise on my account."

Marley shakes her head. "I still think Santana's a great entertainer. But, it doesn't change the fact she hurt you."

"Many years ago," Rachel reminds her cousin.

Marley takes a deep breath and puts on a smile for her cousin. "You're right. It was years ago." She places her hand on Rachel's arm. "And she did kiss you..."

Giving her cousin a wary look, Rachel slowly admits, "She did."

Marley squeezes her cousin's arm. "Maybe I'm wrong, then."

"Maybe," Rachel says. "Or maybe I need a reminder about what happens when you don't have someone else's perspective - or all of the information."

Marley is right. Rachel knows that. She's right about Santana not being serious about their relationship in high school and she's right about Rachel getting her hopes up based on what? A kiss that she can be easily explain away? An early dinner with a friend that could have been romantic if only her feelings are taken into consideration. But from Santana's point of view, dinner could have just been dinner. With a friend.

"No, you're right," Rachel finally says. "I shouldn't go looking for signs that aren't there."

Marley shakes her head and gives Rachel a soft look. "Hey, I don't know Santana like you do. If it felt like a date, maybe it was."

"Or maybe before I go assuming things," the other woman begins, "I should get more information. See how she acts when I see her at the theater later."

With a tiny smile, she mentions, "She did say she didn't want to have to go back." Her smile grows a little more. "And that she wanted to do it again. So, that's something, right?"

Marley gives Rachel a reassuring smile. "That's definitely something."

"You don't think I'm being stupid?"

She knows she might be giving Rachel false hope, but it's better than having to see her cousin's bottom lip quiver, or even worse, see her cry. So, she takes a deep breath and shakes her head.


	17. Chapter 17

Rachel takes a deep breath and pushes her hair behind her ear. She cradles a small bouquet of roses in her arm and, unable to contain her smile, gently knocks on Santana's dressing room door.

At the vanity in the far end of the room on the other side of the door, Kurt gently sweeps an eye shadow brush over Santana's closed lids. She keeps her head steady to allow him to work and calls out a quick, "Come in."

"Hey, San …" Rachel begins as she pushes open the door. She spies Maya sitting at Holly's feet as the woman flips through a packet of papers and makes non-committal grunts into the cell phone cradled against her shoulder.

The little girl waves and Rachel returns it before taking in the state of Santana's usually pristine dressing room. Along with Kurt's many cases full of make-up and hair supplies, Maya's backpack is open on the floor with coloring books and crayons spilling out of it. There are folders with papers haphazardly stuffed into them as well as pens teetering on the edge of the small coffee table.

And every surface is crowded with over-sized and expertly arranged flowers.

Holding up the small bouquet she brought with her, Rachel looks at Santana's reflection in the vanity mirror and shyly offers, "For your last matinee."

Santana opens her eyes just a crack and then smiles widely. "Aw, thanks. They're beautiful, Rach. Look, Kurt." Her stylist hums in appreciation but doesn't actually allow his eyes to be taken from his subject. "Kurt thinks they're beautiful, too."

Rachel giggles and shakes her head. "I'm sure," she says softly as she crosses the room to where she knows Santana has an empty vase. "So, looks like a party in here today," she says, trying to sound casual.

Kurt frowns as Santana's eyes open enough to follow the other woman's reflection through the mirror. "Close," he orders as he tips an eyeliner tube back and forth.

She obediently follows his command and lets out a soft breath. "Not sure what kind of party has this many flowers."

Kurt snickers and mumbles, "Funeral."

"Stop it," Santana says, slapping her stylist's arm. She rolls her eyes when he looks at her innocently. "Anyway, it's that kind of day."

Rachel blinks a few times and pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. Santana, her daughter, stylist and manager don't exactly make a party; but, there are still three more people in the room than she expected when she planned her visit.

"You brought Mama flowers?" Maya wrinkles her nose and giggles.

"I did. Do you like them?" Rachel asks, glad for a conversation to focus on.

The little girl nods happily. "They're pretty – just like Mama," the girl chirps. "Right?"

"Uh huh," Santana says knowingly. She has no idea what Maya wants, but it's clear to her that she's buttering her up for something. "What do you want, Munchkin?"

"I don't want nothing, Mama," the little girl says with a pout. "You're just super pretty!" She turns her wide eyes on her mom's friend and prompts, "Right, Rachel?"

Before Rachel can reply, Kurt runs his fingers through Santana's hair, purses his lips and wonders aloud, "Curls for the masses and then we can pin it back for the show. "

Santana glances up at him and nods. "You're the boss-man, Lady."

Maya keeps her eyes on Rachel and when the other woman's attention moves from boring hair talk back to her, she smiles brightly and nods encouragingly. "Right?"

Rachel blinks a few times and clears her throat. "Yes," she says softly, not really sure why the little girl is being so adamant about getting an answer. "Your mommy is very pretty."

Holly smirks and rolls her eyes. After she hangs up her phone and tucks it away in her back pocket, she bends over and tickles the little girl's side as she whispers in her ear, "Hey, give 'er a break, cupid."

Maya covers her mouth and giggles, her shoulders pushing up as she scrunches her nose and laughs.

Rachel bites her lip and looks at Santana's reflection, hoping to catch some kind of reaction. The other woman, though, is sitting perfectly still with her eyes closed as her stylist buzzes around her.

"Hey," Holly says, gently pushing the packet of papers against Santana's shoulder. "Read this. And sign it," she prompts when the other woman opens her eyes. With a teasing smile she adds, "all that jazz! See? I'm totally into this Broadway sh-uh - stuff."

"Name one song in the show I'm currently, and for less than one day, am performing in," Santana asks.

"Uh." Holly shrugs. "Two-Faced Tango?"

Santana rolls her eyes in reply.

Holly shrugs again before bending down to push Maya's belongings back into her little backpack. After dropping a quick kiss on the little girl's head, she announces, "We're leaving now. Things to do, people to see, ice cream to eat. You know," she teases, "we didn't choose this difficult life. It chose us."

Santana gives her friend a soft look and nods before turning her attention her daughter. "Give Mama a kiss before you go, pretty girl."

"Okay, but don't think it doesn't make me feel weird when you make me call you that," Holly jokes and playfully puckers her lips.

"Ew! No!" Maya's laugh begins as a little shriek as she pushes her palm against Holly's lips. "She's my mama! Not yours!"

Rachel, feeling a little bit like an interloper, watches the little girl wiggle out of Holly's arms and skip over to her mother. After Maya carefully kisses Santana's already made-up cheek, the little girl smiles brightly. "Break a leg!" she announces happily before whispering, "but not for reals."

Holly chuckles under her breath and holds her hand out for the girl. "C'mon, munchkin." She points over the girl's head at Santana and said, "And I'll see you after the last show. Knock 'em dead." She pauses for a short minute before winking and adding, "But not for reals."

After returning Holly's wink, she smiles softly at Maya and raises her brow. "Be good, okay? And only one scoop of ice cream." She gives Holly a warning look. Her friend-slash-manager will never admit it, but she has a big soft spot when it comes to the little girl. And Santana knows that means that Maya usually gets what she wants.

As Kurt winds Santana's hair into a hot roller, he looks over his shoulder and smiles at the little girl. "Bye, princess."

"Bye!" Maya gives Kurt a wide smile before looking up at Rachel. "Break your legs too, Rachel," she offers sweetly.

Holly rolls her eyes and leads the girl out of the dressing room. Rachel stifles a giggle when she hears the woman tell Maya to cut out the leg breaking talk before someone starts a rumor that she's got mafia connections.

"So, I was thinking about grabbing some dinner or something," Rachel mentions, trying her best to sound casual.

Santana has the urge to ask Kurt to forgo the time-wasting hair-curling process so that she can squeeze in a bite to eat with Rachel before her marathon press meetings start. It's not like she has to look perfect for what, in essence, is an exit interview.

Yes; she enjoyed the Broadway stage. Yes; she'd love to it again. No; she has no complaints about the schedule, her cast mates, her crew or anything else having to do with the show. Yes; her fans are certainly amazing for giving her the space to give the stage a try.

But, as Holly reminded her, an exit from this show means prepping for an entrance into something else. She has to lay the foundation and tease a possible album or national tour or – something.

So, even though she'd rather be somewhere else – with someone else – Santana knows she's got to toe this line.

"I'm gonna pass on dinner tonight," Santana announces, trying not to sound too disappointed. "Maybe if you go by one of those pretzel carts, you could grab one for me? Just bring it with you on your way back or something?" Santana asks hopefully.

A sharp tone rings out from somewhere on the dressing table and Santana quickly reaches over and picks it up, answering the call with a cheery and familiar, "Hey you!"

Rachel isn't even able to get a disappointed "yeah, okay" out before the other woman's attention is pulled away.

With Kurt circling Santana like a vulture with a teasing comb, and with Santana talking half in Spanish and half in English, Rachel side-eyes the door. She doesn't need an exit cue. It's obvious that Santana's attention is elsewhere and most likely would be for immediate future. She bites her lip, inhaling deeply before blowing the breath back out and letting herself out of the dressing room.

As Rachel waits for security to clear the side door, she does her best not to let Marley's doubts become her own. She tries not to let Santana's apparent disinterest in her presence or how easily her attention was stolen from Rachel to help that seed of doubt grow. But she can't help but hear Marley's voice in her head asking her why she thinks this time would be different.

Why, indeed.

Rachel starts to get impatient and, when she finally gets the all clear from security, she acknowledges his announcement with an eye roll, a huff of displeasure and a quick exit. Normally there'd be small talk and maybe even an invitation to place an order for one of the many food carts in the area. Not today. She's in no mood for anything beyond a quick trip out and then back to her dressing room to stew at her own stupidity for, once again, getting ahead of herself.

And to top it off, Santana just finished her last matinee. This is her last break between matinee and an evening show. Soon it would be Santana's last performance. And, try as she might not to put too much into it, Rachel considers that she's about to lose Santana all over again. She's moved so quickly into the idea of having something more with Santana that all of her best intentions of simply being Santana's friend are nothing more than lip-service.

As Rachel rounds the corner of the alley and makes her way to the front of the theater, she resolves to take a step back. She promises herself that she'll rewind her feelings until she's given something firmer to grasp onto than her own misinterpretations. Her mental contract is signed with a decisive nod.

Her first step back to friendship is to provide the pretzel her friend requested.

She's not feeling her usual self yet, but Rachel is definitely feeling centered on her mission. She can't help but smile to herself at her new-found, grown-up attitude and, as she spies a man positioning his camera at various angles to capture Santana's image on the show's poster, her smile grows. No doubt the overly-enthusiastic photographer is one of Santana's fans.

Rachel is about to suggest he turn off his flash when she notes that he has already realized his photos are turning out to be of his own flash reflecting on the glass over the poster. After about ten more clicks from his now-flashless device, the man quickly lowers his camera and looks around as though hoping to see someone in particular.

When he sees Rachel looking at him, he smiles brightly, holds out his camera and asks, "Would you mind taking a picture of me next to the poster?"

"Happy to," Rachel says, reaching out for the camera.

It only takes the man a second before realization sets in. With wide eyes, he tilts his head to the side. "Rachel?"

Retracting her hand, she blinks owlishly at the man in front of her. Even if it had been years since she'd seen him - and even with his slightly graying hair and new (to her) glasses - there was no way she wouldn't recognize the man in front of her. She's actually surprised not to have recognized him right away.

"Mr. Lopez?"

"Mr. Lopez? No, no. It's Antonio, remember?" Antonio's eyes light up when Rachel remembers him – even if she doesn't remember that she's supposed to call him Antonio or Papa. He doesn't waste any time before pulling her into a hug. "Look at you, all grown up!"

It takes Rachel a moment to return the hug, but when she does, she holds onto him tightly. "It's so nice to see you," she says, closing her eyes tightly. "It's been so long."

Antonio always thought of Rachel as a second daughter. How could he think of her any other way? She was a fixture in his home for years. She was so much of his little girl's life that when she wasn't there anymore, it was like a member of the family had gone away. "Too long, Rachel," he corrects her gently.

Stepping out of his embrace, Rachel clears her throat and pushes her hair behind her ear. "I haven't been back to Ohio in a long time, actually," she confesses.

Antonio raises his brow. "I surely hope not, because if you were in Lima without swinging by to say hello, I'm not sure if I could forgive you." He offers her a teasing smile before clearing his throat and asking, "Where are you headed?"

Pointing behind him, Rachel says, "I was going to grab a little snack before the evening show." She presses her lips together and adds, "And I've been conscripted into getting a pretzel for Santana."

"Mind if I join you on your mission? "Antonio asks with a warm smile. "Just don't tell my wife - we haven't had dinner yet."

Looking over her shoulder and then back again, Rachel asks, "... where is she?"

"Oh, she's getting some flowers for Santana. I offered to get them, but she said I'd pick the wrong ones." He shrugs and puts his hands up as if surrendering. He adores his daughter but if his wife thought he was going to argue himself into picking up flowers instead of playing tourist, she was wrong.

With a tiny tilt of her head and a quick point of her finger toward the opposite end of the street, Rachel accepts his invitation accompany her. "Well, I won't tell Mrs. Lopez you flirted with ruining your dinner if you let me treat you."

He raises his brow. "Blackmail, huh? I see my daughter has managed to influence you again." Antonio decides that, if Rachel is running errands for Santana, their relationship - in whatever form - must be positive. His smile grows at the thought and he follows Rachel's lead.

"Again?" she asks, her head tilting in confusion.

He nods. "Yeah, you and Santana were like two peas in a pod back then. I know she had you doing things you wouldn't normally have done."

"If you're referring to the rope she had you attach to the tree house, then," Rachel smirks and says, "you're right." With a little giggle, she admits, "I never would have climbed up or down that rope if she hadn't convinced me that stars aren't allowed to be stars if they're afraid of heights."

"Oh, she felt so guilty when you slipped and fell."

Antonio rolls his eyes as he remembers the terror in his daughter's eyes as she ran into the house demanding he call 911. When he looked out of the window and saw the other little girl sitting up, tears streaming down her cheeks, and rubbing her knees, he assured Santana that emergency services weren't necessary. His daughter huffed and said that they should come anyway just to make sure she didn't accidentally break her best friend.

The next day, Santana and her mom spent a good portion of the morning baking "I'm Sorry" cookies.

"Good." Rachel punctuates with a firm nod before continuing. "It was her fault for making monkey noises and making me laugh."

"Ah, her love for monkeys. Y'know, Maya – her little girl – is really into monkeys right now, too. I'm blaming Santana for that."

"I do know." Rachel bites her lip as she recalls her zoo outing with Santana and the little girl. "She's quite loyal to them."

Spotting the pretzel vendor ahead of them, she points in the direction of the cart and teases Antonio, "You sure you wanna do this?"

He laughs softly and shakes his head. "Obviously you have been in New York too long. You need to come home for family dinner. You know, Santana gets her appetite from someone - and it isn't her mother."

"Sometimes I think I have been here too long," Rachel admits. She barely remembers the last time she took time off to visit her parents' home. "There are times I have to remind myself that I haven't always lived here."

Rachel holds up two fingers as she orders. "Two, please. One with light salt."

Antonio nods politely and gives the vendor a small smile. "I know what you mean. Lima wasn't always my home. Sometimes I forget that."

After paying for the pretzels, Rachel starts to hand one to Antonio. Before he can take it, she pulls it back and says, "If your wife finds out about this, you didn't get it from me."

He crosses his heart and winks when she hands it over.

She pauses for a beat and, after a moment of thought, says, "You raised your family in Lima. It makes sense for you to feel like that. I haven't done much other than work here." Her eyes widen. "Don't get me wrong, I'm amazed at how everything has gone and I do love it here. But, it's home because it's familiar, I guess."

Antonio places a comforting hand on her back. "It's home because it's where you're meant to be. Lima was too small for you, Rachel. Too small minded." His eyes are warm and his voice is gentle - and he's exactly the way Rachel remembered him.

"Thank you, Belle," He says before he takes a huge bite of the pretzel and hums in appreciation.

Rachel blinks owlishly at the sound of her old nickname - and how easily he says it. She can't remember the last time she'd heard it and didn't realize, until hearing it again, how much she missed it.

She clears her throat and inhales deeply. "Any time, Mr. Lopez. You can consider it a bribe to come visit the city more often."

With a cheek full of pretzel, he reminds her "Antonio."

After swallowing his food, he clears his throat and says, "I'm pretty sure we'll be up this way quite a bit. I've missed my girl and that little girl of hers so much. Kids grow up so fast these days, right? I swear it was just yesterday I was holding Maya for the first time."

"You know, I've been campaigning my dads to move here for a while. I might just have to expand my campaign to other father figures - " Rachel stops and smile shyly. "I mean, if Santana really is thinking of staying here."

"I don't see why not. It makes sense."

"You'd really move here?" she asks, her eyes wide with surprise.

He laughs softly and wraps his arm around her shoulders. "I meant it makes sense for Santana. But, you never know. Maybe when I retire."

"Oh." Rachel is silent for a moment before her curiosity gets the best of her. "Why do you think it makes sense?"

Antonio doesn't answer right away. Instead, he takes a moment to look at Rachel. He can see the ways she's changed - grown up - but he can still see that little girl she used to be, so open to friendship and love and so excited by the prospect of belonging. "Because it's where her heart is."

She can't help but smile at the thought of Santana gushing about her newest adventure in New York. "You know, there isn't any part of theater I don't absolutely love," she says dreamily. "Even the smell of it is intoxicating."

She presses her lips together and winks. "I knew Santana would be wooed by it. She's a performer and there's nothing like performing live in this city where, I know it wasn't, but sometimes I feel like theater was born here."

Rachel laughs. "And that sounds crazy." She shakes her head. "But I'm glad she's fallen in love with it. She's exceptional, as you'll find out for yourself in a few hours."

Antonio wants to correct her. He wants to put his hands on her shoulders, look her in the eye and tell her that Santana's heart has never been anywhere other than with her. He wants to tell her that he's thanked deities for this second chance for his daughter and has prayed that his daughter is ready to take this opportunity. And he wants to tell her that all he's ever wanted for Santana is her happiness - and that she was at her happiest and most carefree when Rachel was around.

But it isn't his place. He doesn't know where they stand - co-workers? friends? hopefully more.

And maybe there's a part of him that wants to say all of that to Santana first.

So he just nods. "I have no doubt that she is."

"Speaking of things that Santana is - or will be," Rachel begins. "Hungry." She holds out the other pretzel. "Since you'll be seeing her, maybe you can deliver it for me? It'll give me a couple of extra minutes to track down the falafel guy."

Antonio nods dutifully and takes the other pretzel from her. "Sure thing." Before Rachel leaves, he opens his arms and smiles contently when she steps into his hug. "Please don't be a stranger, Belle. We've all missed you."


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, here it is - the final chapter. I will be posting the epilogue within a few days. Thank you so much for reading. And to those of you who have fed the muse with your supportive comments/reviews, there aren't enough thanks.

Santana didn't realize curtain call would be so emotional. The afternoon had been such a blur that she didn't have time to consider the finality that would come with the evening's performance. The standing ovation, even more flowers from her cast mates and her parents sitting so proudly in the front row, makes the evening a roller coaster of emotions. She navigates the afternoon's interviews without any waterworks but makes up for it and can't seem to keep her eyes from welling up as she exits the stage for the last time.

She's got a list of last times running through her head as she closes out her final night in the show - the last time changing out of her costume, the last time shutting off the lights in this particular dressing room, and the last time giving the security guard one of her bouquets to bring home to his wife (or mother or boyfriend – she never did ask).

There's one thing she hopes won't be a last, something she is hoping will become somewhat of a routine.

Of course, knocking on Rachel's dressing room door and receiving no answer isn't exactly how Santana expects the evening to play out – it definitely isn't how traditions get started, that she's sure of.

Trying the door and, finding it unlocked, she peeks her head in only to find the room dark with no sign that Rachel would be returning. She mentally kicks herself for not actually taking the time to plan this out.

Santana showing up late (and alone) to her closing party is memorialized as she makes her entrance amid the popping of camera flashes and the clicking of texts and tweets being sent into cyberspace. Fans of her music had been eating up all of the Great White Way promotional shots and her new Broadway fans are probably already poised, eyes trained on their twitter feeds, waiting for updates on the "new" star's last evening with her cast.

The party is louder than she expects and the producer's apartment borders on being christened a township based on its size. Santana cranes her neck, checking the front room for her co-star. Her search is interrupted when she's pulled into a hug from her other co-star - the one she hadn't been looking for.

"Late as usual, Santana." Blaine spotted Santana walk in and immediately picked up two glasses of champagne on his way to greet her. Holding up one glass in a hat's off gesture, he smiles warmly. "But always worth it."

"Hey, this time was totally not my fault," Santana pulls the glass from his hand and takes a sip. "I was looking for Rachel.

"She's talking up the Times reporter," he informs her. "I think she's trying to get the column expanded to a full page or something. She's just - " He takes a deep breath and rolls his eyes as he shakes his head. "You know how she gets."

Santana pushes out a short, breathy laugh. "Yes. I do know." After taking another sip – she makes a mental note to find out the name of this excellent champagne - she continues. "Did you see where she went?"

"Probably still has him cornered by the bruschetta," he says, poking his thumb behind him.

Across the room, Rachel gestures vaguely as she continues her discussion. "... of course, we're wildly excited about our colleague re-joining the cast when her leave is over on Tuesday. It's one of those bittersweet things." She points to his notepad. "Did you write 'bittersweet'? I think it's the most appropriate word. You should probably write it down."

When Santana glances in Rachel's direction, she laughs again. "Maybe I should go save the poor guy." She offers Blaine a quick smile before making her way to where Rachel has the Times reporter trapped.

Giving the reporter a sympathetic smile, she asks, though she already knows the answer, "Hey, sorry to butt in, but would you mind if I stole her away for a minute?" Without letting the reporter reply, Santana takes Rachel by the arm and pulls her away from him.

"Don't leave without getting a quote from Santana!" Rachel shouts as the other woman unceremoniously pulls her away.

Once she gets Rachel to an area of the main room that isn't so crowded, Santana says, "I was wondering where you disappeared to."

Rachel gently pulls her arm out of Santana's hold, takes a noticeable step back and tilts her head. "I wasn't going to miss your closing party, Santana," she says breezily. "But you're probably only going to get a medium column from that guy now that you pulled me away. I was giving him some really good stuff."

"And I appreciate that." Santana says slowly, slightly suprrised by Rachel's move to put some distance between them. "So, hey, I was looking for you earlier. Thought we could come to the party together."

"Oh. Really?" Rachel wrinkles her nose and then shakes her head. "I don't think I realized that." She gives Santana a quick smile. "Sorry about that. Miscommunication, I guess."

The other girl quickly furrows her brow. "Are you okay?"

Pressing her lips together, Rachel nods firmly. "Great."

She forces herself to search the crowd. There's no one in particular she's looking for, but the distraction (or the appearance of distraction) is more comfortable than meeting Santana's gaze.

Rachel had been doing a pretty bad job at keeping herself distanced from Santana. She allowed herself to get caught up in the other woman's attention and had done nothing to prepare herself for the inevitable let down.

Marley was right – she recognizes that now.

Santana's departure from the show will mean a departure from Rachel's life. That much was clear to her after experiencing the casual manner and the ease with which Santana was able to dismiss her earlier that day.

Santana frowns, narrowing her eyes at the other woman as though searching for a clue to explain her coldness. Even with the years apart, Santana still knows Rachel enough to know that monosyllabic answers are an indication of a deeper issue.

"Okay, c'mon. What's wrong?"

Rachel shakes her head, her eyes widening in faux innocence. "Nothing's wrong," she says calmly before changing the subject. "I trust your pretzel found its way to you this afternoon?"

"Yeah." Santana gives Rachel a warm smile, happy for a question – anything that isn't closed-ended is a good sign. "Thanks for that. My dad passed it along. Pretty sure he had one himself, too." She chuckles again and sips her champagne. "He always thinks we don't know he snacks just before dinner time."

"I can neither confirm nor deny that rumor." She gives Santana a quick smile but then seems to remember herself and squares her shoulders.

Her voice loses some of its warmth as she asks, "Did your parents enjoy the show?"

Santana nods slowly. Her comfort level with the conversation drops dramatically as she realizes that Rachel is attempting what she normally refers to as 'idle chatter.' It's what she does when she doesn't want to talk to someone or is avoiding a specific topic.

"Yeah," she replies, if for no other reason, to keep the conversation moving until she can figure out what's actually happening right now. "I only got to speak to them for a bit, because I went looking for you."

"Well, I hope you'll be able to spend some more time with them before they go back." Rachel gives her a cordial smile. "I spoke with your dad very briefly and he was very excited about the trip and, of course, seeing you."

It's then that the Times reporter decides to try to get his quote only to have Santana hold up her finger, letting him know she needed another minute before talking to him.

Scooting a few feet away, and nudging Rachel's elbow to make her do the same, Santana raises her brow and asks. "You talked to him – my dad?"

Rachel nods softly. "He was taking pictures outside."

Santana rolls her eyes playfully and chuckles. "I don't think he'll ever stop doing that."

"Wait." Rachel squints and asks, "How did you think he ended up with the pretzel if I hadn't spoken to him?"

Santana takes a moment to think about her friend's question before shrugging. "I don't know." She lets out a chuckle. "I'm all over the place today."

"It happens," the other woman states simply. "Closing night and all of that."

"Yeah, I'm going to miss it."

Rachel makes a soft, non-committal noise. If she was anyone else, it might be considered a grunt. Her gaze continues to wander the room, as though she's expecting someone.

At Rachel's non-reaction, Santana's lips curve downward and her brows push together. It's not like she expects Rachel to break down or anything, but a little emotion wouldn't be a bad thing.

She lowered her voice and, deciding to lead Rachel a little, admitted, "I was sort of thinking you might miss me when I left."

Rachel tilts her head, narrowing her eyes as she meets Santana's gaze. "Is that what it is you want from me? To miss you?"

Taken aback by the other woman's reply, Santana crosses her arms in front of her, a frown still firmly in place. "Maybe a little?"

Rachel tries not to look disappointed as her fears are confirmed. Santana didn't say that Rachel wouldn't have to miss her, that she wasn't going anywhere. No; Santana was planning to leave, again …

Inhaling deeply, Rachel blinks slowly and then carefully says, "Then I'll be sure to miss you when you're gone."

She presses her lips together and turns. Her grand walk-out is thwarted by three men toasting behind her. Rachel has to sidestep a few times and ends up not really getting anywhere.

Santana blinks in confusion. There's not a lot she understands about how the evening is shaking out. But one thing she's absolutely sure of is that she's not going to stand around and watch Rachel walk away.

As the Times reporter inches closer, sure that he's about to get the quote he's patiently been waiting for, Santana shoots him a warning glare. He gets the point and takes a baby step backward.

Grabbing Rachel's wrist gently, Santana tugs on the other woman's hand, making her turn to face her. "What the hell was that?"

"What was what, Santana?" Rachel answers impatiently, twisting her hand until her wrist is out of the other woman's grasp.

"That!" This isn't how Santana the night is supposed to go. She was supposed to have a good time with her cast mates, maybe have a few drinks, and most importantly, spend as much time as possible with Rachel. "Why are you acting like this?"

"How would you rather I act?" Rachel asks, her voice a harsh whisper. "Would you rather I fall all over myself getting your attention? I've done that, twice now, and I'm not doing it anymore."

Santana can't help the confused look that appears on her face. "What're you talking about?"

Rachel looks away, blinking rapidly as she scans the room. Of course Santana doesn't know what's wrong. Of course she doesn't get it – it's just further proof that Rachel – once again - let things go too far in her head.

"Nothing," she answers softly. "Just forget about it. It doesn't matter."

Santana scoffs and takes Rachel's wrist again, pre-empting another escape attempt. "Of course it matters, Rach." Trying to make eye contact she firmly states, "It totally, completely fuckin' matters."

"Oh, does it?" Rachel asks humorlessly, a throaty chuckle shaking loose as she squares her shoulders. "Because from where I stand, it sure doesn't look like it. And it's my own fault for allowing myself to believe otherwise."

"Rachel, I have no idea what you're talking about. Can you just stop and explain to me where all this is coming from?"

"Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it," Rachel states smartly.

Santana squints, dumb-founded, as she thinks. It doesn't take long for her eyes to widen and her voice to drop to a hushed whisper. "Wait. Is this about - us?"

"Oh, so there's an 'us' for something to be about?" Rachel's brows rise. "Because, aside from a meal that seemed a whole lot like a date and, 'y know, that kissing thing ..."

Santana keeps her voice low. Her eyes skirt over to where the Times reporter is watching with interest before they shift to meet Rachel's eyes. "What makes you think it wasn't like that?"

"I seem to remember another time I thought I was on a date and other times when someone kissed me and then told me it wasn't real," Rachel explains before pressing her lips into a tight frown. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but it sure seems like a pattern to me. Fool me twice, Santana."

For the first time – possibly in her entire life – Santana is struck speechless. Her head turns minutely from side to side, negating Rachel's assumption when words get stuck in her throat.

Rachel nods emphatically in return and points at the other woman, saying, "You kissed me. And then - what was that last night? I don't even know but I thought it was something good." She pauses and loses a little bit of steam. "And today, it's like yesterday didn't happen. I just thought that - " She stops talking and shakes her head in frustration. "I don't know what I thought."

"So you're mad at me for not knowing what you're thinking when you don't even know what you're thinking?" Santana asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I'm not mad about your inability to read my mind," Rachel argues. "I'm mad that you think you need to. Haven't I always been transparent? Hasn't it always been silly little Rachel chasing Santana?"

She takes a deep breath and continues. "Hasn't it always been that you get me and I get you walking away? Only this time, I suppose I get a new excuse because the one you offered last time doesn't work anymore."

Santana raises her voice slightly. "Hey, now wait a minute! Since when am I walking away? This isn't like last time."

She blows out a frustrated breath. There's a tension in her chest and she can feel herself rising to this battle that Rachel seems to want so badly. "And maybe you shouldn't jump to conclusions. Because I came out - what? That automatically means we're together."

She has no idea why she says it because that's exactly what Santana hopes the case will be. She wants to come out officially and she wants to be with Rachel. Those are the only two things currently on her list of "Things That Will Make Santana Happy."

"If you'd like, I could get the Times reporter over here so that you can reiterate to him that we're not together. Newsflash, Santana: Everyone knows we're not together! You and Holly came up with all sorts of angles and histories to make sure of that." Rachel sticks her hand out and points to a man across the room. "I don't know him but I bet he knows that we're not together. As does the guy next to him and everyone else in this room!"

She blows out a defeated breath and drops her head, her eyes on the floor. "Except none of them were in the restaurant with me yesterday. And none of them walked me back to the theater and acted like ..." She pauses and shakes her head. "... and it really doesn't matter, does it?"

Steeling herself, Rachel looks up, brave face firmly in place, and says, "Tonight is your night and you should be celebrating."

At Rachel's words, Santana's expression changes and the fight in her is gone.

"Of course it matters, Rach." She swallows roughly and dips her head so that she's able to meet the other woman's eyes. "No, we're not together. But that doesn't mean we couldn't be and, after last night ..."

"After last night what?" Rachel blew out a frustrated breath. "After last night, today would be like any other day? Because that's what it was. That's what you made it."

Santana raises her voice. "I didn't make it anything, Rachel. I barely had time to think today."

"No time to think," Rachel repeats as she crosses her arms, "but plenty of time to hang out with Holly, right?"

Santana's mouth falls open slightly. "Holly is my manager, Rachel. We weren't hanging out - we were working. I'm not sure if you're aware of this but, after tonight, I'm technically unemployed. We were talking about possible projects in between my being primped and pushed into interviews with everyone from E! News to Backstage."

Rachel presses her lips together and blinks a few times, unsure of what to say. "Well," she begins, followed by a deep inhale, "fine."

The other woman raises her brow. "Fine? That's all you have to say?" She shakes her head. "Did you think I was avoiding you or something, Rachel?"

Pointing to the reporter standing nervously to the side, Santana says, "That's been my entire day, Rachel. That right there." Blowing out a long breath, she looks the reporter dead in the eye. "I will get to you if you could just – wait somewhere else, please. "

Once the reporter is out of earshot, she repeats her question. "Were you mad because you thought I was avoiding you?"

"No," the other woman answers too quickly. "Maybe."

Santana rolls her eyes. "You could have asked me instead of freezing me out."

"Asked you what?" Rachel's frown was very near a pout. "I may as well have passed you a note with checkboxes on it. Do you like me? Yes or no." At this point, there was no doubt that she was pouting. "And when would I have asked?"

She shrugs. "Last night? Here, at the party? Instead of being pissed at me ..."

"I'm not pissed at you," Rachel said.

"Sure seems like it, Rach."

"Disappointment is not the same as anger," she informs the other woman. "Though I will admit that they present similarly and I can see how it might be confusing. For the record," she pauses," I'm not angry."

"But you're disappointed?" She raises her brow and bites her lip.

"Of course I am!" Rachel shakes her head and huffs. She's about two seconds from stamping her foot but, so far, she's been able to hold it back. "Why wouldn't I be? I thought this was going somewhere so, yes, I'm disappointed."

"And you don't think I thought this was going somewhere?" She lowers her voice slightly and leans in closer to Rachel. "I introduced you to my daughter, had you spend time with us. Rach, I kissed you."

"And never mentioned it, again." Rachel presses her lips together and makes a point of meeting the other woman's eyes. Remembering Marley's original argument that, perhaps, Santana wasn't on the same page, she adds, "Like it didn't happen."

Santana sighs softly. "It didn't happen the way I thought it would. I was expecting something – y'know, it came across as a celebratory thing and not at all like the romantic thing I wanted it to be. But it's not like I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't trip into you – it wasn't an accident."

Rachel shrugs. "I didn't know why you did it," she admits softly. "For a little while I didn't really care. The fact that you did it was enough but now it's too confusing."

"I did it because I wanted to," the other woman stated gently before admitting, "Because I couldn't think of doing anything else."

"And last night?" Rachel asks before pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Was a date. I just ..." She shrugs. "I didn't want to freak you out or change things by labeling it."

Pressing her lips together to try to hide her smile, Rachel says, "I don't mind labels." She blinks a few times before adding, "It might have saved some time ... and worry."

Seeing Rachel hold back her smile only makes Santana do the same. "Guess I didn't really think that one through, huh?"

"I may have not thought through a few things myself ... "

Santana reaches over and takes Rachel's hand in hers. "Is it too late to ask you out to dinner? As a date this time?"

"Too late for tonight," she says, squeezing Santana's hand. "But, not too late in the more ominous sense, no." Finally allowing her smile to break through, Rachel adds, "And I'd love to - if you're asking."

Santana nods her head, smiling along with Rachel. "I want to."

"You probably should, then," she teased.

Santana rolls her eyes playfully, a smile still on her face. "Rachel Barbra Berry, winner of at least one Tony Award, will you go out on a date with me? A proper one this time?"

Rachel's smile widens and she beams at Santana as she nods. Pulling on the other woman's hand, Rachel brings Santana closer and throws her arms around her. "Yes, please," she whispers softly.

Santana holds her close, and she lets her eyes fall closed for just a second, enjoying the feeling of Rachel's arms around her. "Rach, you're going to have to let me go, or I'm going to kiss you in front of all these people. And I don't think you're the kind of person to kiss before the first date." She chuckles.

Not letting go, Rachel casually mentions, "You just said that last night was a date ..."

Santana doesn't hesitate. She doesn't wait for Rachel to say it's okay and she doesn't look around to see if anyone is watching them. She just leans a little closer, cups Rachel's cheek, and kisses her.

It's not like the kiss in her apartment. And it's not like the innocent – but trying really hard not to be innocent – kisses from their youth. This is a kiss with promise – it's firm enough to allay Rachel's fears and sweet enough for the other woman to taste Santana's sincerity.

It's the kiss she'd wanted to share with Rachel for as long as she could remember.

Remembering their surroundings, Rachel leans her forehead against Santana's and doesn't even bother to try to contain her smile. With a quick nose crinkle, she asks, "Do you want to maybe get out of here? Go talk somewhere?"

"Definitely." Santana takes the other woman's hand and leads her toward the door only to stop halfway there. "Wait – just a second."

Rachel watches Santana walk up to the Times reporter. Their discussion consists of Santana saying something, shrugging and tilting her head in Rachel's direction – and the Times reporter laughing and nodding.

"What did you say to him?" she asks once Santana is back at her side.

Curling her arm around Rachel and leading her toward the door, the other woman smiles and calmly says, "Just reminded him that getting an exclusive tomorrow is better than getting a quote tonight."


	19. Epilogue (of sorts)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been a long time since I've thought about this story. Not just because it's over but because it signifies the end of an RP era for me. This story came about because my RP partner and I loved the game we were playing and wanted to share it with other people. We had no idea how well it would be received and, before I get to the sort-of epilogue, I wanted to thank everyone who read, favorited and/or reviewed. You've made sharing this story as meaningful as it was writing it.
> 
> This epilogue isn't really an epilogue like most people write. I was going to bullet point the plan for the sequel but then I had a crazy idea.
> 
> What if I just put my rambling head canon out there for everyone to see? It's cleaned up a little (so so very little) so that you can follow along but I left all of my little asides in to give you an idea of how I write - and what it looks like before I share it with you.
> 
> A look into my crazy, little mind - aka, the epilogue for "Coming Back As We Are":

"Questions of Science and Progress" (There's a whole Coldplay thing going on here, see?)

So, maybe it starts with a bang. Chapter 1 - Maya walks in on S/R having an intimate moment on the couch. To make it super hilarious, M walks in on them in the bedroom. She sees R - but where the hell is her mom? Yeah. So. S pops her head out from under the sheet and is like "you need to get your ass in bed" (Only, she's nicer. But not much.)

M asks if R is sleeping over and R is like - uhm, I'm too aghast to speak. The horror, the horror of being caught by a four year old. S is like - yes, she's sleeping over and get your ass in bed. M walks closer to the bed and S has to revise and say get your ass in YOUR bed. Except maybe she says 'behind in bed'. I dunno - the kid's four.

Breakfast time comes and R and S are still recovering from abject horror - mostly R. S is like - she'll forget by morning.

But M hasn't forgotten. She doesn't ask why S was under the covers (good for her because R would have a heart attack.) but she asks if R lives there now. S is quick to say no. R is hurt. Because that's what she does. She goes from horrified to hurt in 2.4 seconds; 2.6 if she hasn't had her coffee yet.

M goes to dance class with Kurt. Kurt is taking a class because he's still got the hots for Blaine and Blaine's a terrific dancer so - I don't know. Some kind of gay boys getting together scheme or something. All that's needed to know is that Kurtsie takes M away - most likely to ballet or tap or kung fu or something.

There's a word I can't think of right now - but whatever it is? It rears it's ugly head and R goes into silent mode. Freaks the hell out of S. She's like - uh. M's fine with you staying over night. It's all good. And R's like, yeah. okay. And S is like. Seriously. She likes you. She likes us. No problems. *smile smile* But R doesn't budge because she's back in high school and S isn't making a commitment like she thought she was going to.

Not that R thought about wedding bells or anything. Just like - how about not shouting NO as if the idea of her moving in was a step lower than contracting the bubonic plague?

So, chapter probably ends with R making up a reason to run away. And by run away, I mean probably just go back to her place to watch Moulin Rouge.

Soooo, then we have Ch 2.

S gets R to go on a date. They're doing really well with the public. Most people leave them alone but some folks just NEED to get a photo with them. Marley has been good and only asks for S's autograph for her friends now. Mostly because she's already got everything she owns signed.

They're on this date and R makes some flippant remark about them "just" dating to someone. Not sure who. Will make that up later. Maybe a TMZ type person. Maybe they're like "in LA, you'd be married by now (however long they've been together - a while already)" and R's like - no, because it's not legal in California. And we're taking it slow. Just dating.

And S is like, wtf? Pretty sure this isn't some casual something. So, she grills R about it. What does that mean - just dating? Is she supposed to worry that R's just dating someone else? Why just? And R's like. Well, we don't live together - heaven forbid. And S kind of chokes because - heaven forbid? Why would she say that? Which is kind of what she asks. Only she might use the eff word. And R tries to play it off like it's nothing but S is having none of that crap. She doesn't play games and like hell if she's letting R - not with her and def. not with her daughter in the mix.

So, she makes her explain and R tells her that there are ways of saying things that make things that are NOT BAD sound TERRIBLE, i.e. shouting NO at your child when she asks if someone is moving in. She didn't ask if it's okay to play with grenades. She asked if R was moving in.

AND I HAVE TO GO BACKWARD NOW! M should ask if R's moving in and, before anyone can answer, ask if they were making babies. because so and so at dance told her how babies are made and it seemed like that's what they were trying to do

That leads to the all of the argue-ee blah blah in CH 2 and S's reaction to the question. S explains that she was firm in her answer because 1. they weren't making babies 2. R's not moving in and 3. she's not making babies or moving in with anyone she's not married to. and maybe 4. she doesn't mind practicing making babies and, in fact, hopes that continues.

This leads to R's - marriage? us? get married? moment because she didn't know S was even thinking about it. Especially not after treating the idea of her moving in like the idea of Sue Sylvester moving in - and yes, that's the worst I could come up with on short notice.

Actually, S shouldn't be like "i'm not doing those things until I'm married" - it should be "we're not doing those things until we're married." That will give R the "what huh" moment. Because S has actually thought about marrying her. And, you know, babies and all of that forever stuff.

i think it should be a year after the end of the first story. Maya would be five or almost five - and that would have them in a relationship long enough for them both ask where the hell they think they are going with this.

So maybe ch 1 and 2 are really just kind of a weird type of prologue to get us to the real story - like a mini-story of them deciding that this is it for them.

Not that S needed to decide. She's known forever. And R probably has, too.

Then the "real" story starts in ch 3.

I'm thinking that maybe S doesn't want M to be much older than her siblings. Note use of the plural. R doesn't mind the idea. In fact, the more she's been around M, the more her maternal instinct has kicked in. \And S has been really good about making sure M treats R like a parent-figure and not a guest in their house.

Maybe ch 3 is a glimpse at this. Maybe M needs to take a bath but, instead, she's hopping around in the bathroom, wearing her tap shoes and calling it "practice." S is on the phone with H or something and asks R to check on M. R does and M isn't listening to her. Lots of R/M banter and S watching with her phone up to her ear but not interfering. Eventually S has to say - M, you listen to R. And gives her the talk about respecting her parents. Because R and S have already had the marriage and kids talk - so, this isn't really a shock to R. Just kind of heartwarming that S is saying "our kids include the one I made when we weren't together ..."

This might be a good time to have M ask if R is her new daddy. Which of course, spurns a whole new talk. But instead of doing what she would done earlier (in CBaWA), S doesn't remove M from the room and talk to her privately. They are all participants in this talk because it's a family talk and that's what they are - legal or not.

Anyway. So, that'd be that chapter, I guess. Getting M on board with the whole 'Maya Has Two Mommies' thing.

And there's really no need to deal with the two mommies vs mommy and daddy issue because I think S would have raised her to just get it. But if it was something that someone wanted to explore, I guess there could be a moment where M says something about a kid in her dance class having two daddies and asks if she should ask Daddy if he could find her another Daddy because she thinks having two dads would be really cool. Maybe the kid in dance always gets to do super fun "dad" things and R's like - well, you don't need a dad for that. And S is like, I know your dad and there's no way you're getting another one. You might end up with another mom ... or two.

Oh, I supposed as some point in this talk when they talk about family they'd also have to talk about the prospect of their family getting bigger. M will have questions because she knows, in general, how babies are made. And, while she thought they were making babies before - she's kind of confused because she was pretty sure that she was told that boy parts were needed and maybe double-checks that R doesn't have boy parts. Not like, lifts her dress to check but asks.

Ch 4 would then have to be them really deciding about having another kid. And not just the who, but the how and when. S is pretty gung ho on the idea because she loves being a mom and R is a little more hesitant because, yes she has a Tony, but there's still so much she wants to do. S, of course, knows R. So, she's prepared with a list of Hollywood moms and even throws in Broadway moms. R can't argue with it and realizes that, if S prepped this list, then S is hoping R is going to be the one to carry the baby.

And what about adoption and all of that? Well, S argues that she really thinks R would like the baby experience. Yes, they could adopt a baby from another country and all of that but she also doesn't want to take away R's experience of carrying a child (if she wants to - and she does). I think they'd probably have one more that is biologically tied to them and then adopt the others - children who need homes. Not a lot. They aren't Brangelina or anything. No more than 4 total - and maybe the 2 they adopt are siblings. They went into it looking for one and came out with two. But all of that is later.

What if R has problems getting pregnant, right? So, they do all the fost/adopt stuff when that looks like a bust. S doesn't feel right trying to get pregnant when R can't do it so they decided to keep trying but to get their fall back in place, just in case. They get placed with a couple of kids. Maybe one older and one younger than Maya - like 4 and 7 or something. Well, Mr. 7 year old goes to school and comes home with a stomach bug in some future chapter, lol. R thinks she's got it but her stomach bug lasts WAY longer than his did.

Uh. Oven? There's a bun in you.

So now they have to figure out how to make this family work because they have M, who is definitely into have attention and gets possessive of S (and even of R - maybe more of R because she feels like she really has to solidify that relationship before someone else moves in and takes her away) She's got these two new kids - nameless as of yet. And they've got their own baggage and trust issues.

The littlest one is on board with calling S and R "mom" or something like that but the older one just calls them "ma'am" - he's not sold yet. They have to prove that they're not going to chuck him to the curb. And the new baby is all the more reason for him to be scared. They wanted a kid - and this one is going to be their own. Why would they care about him when they have their own to care about? He doesn't know S and R very well yet.

This is probably going to be a story about family being who you love - what you make it - and not about genetics.

And I think M doesn't call R "mom" right away, either. Not even when the other two kids show up. She tries to tell older nameless boy (AKA ONB) that he can call R by her first name and that he doesn't have to call her ma'am. But he does it anyway because his grandma told him that you treat adults with respect and you show respect by saying "sir" and "ma'am."

I think maybe the younger nameless and genderless child (YNGC) will be like "can I call you mom?" and S and R say something like "you can call us whatever you want." But they never say "call me Mom" or "Call me Rachel." And if they don't tell ONB, then he's sticking to grandma's advice.

[Random title explanation: I figured the Questions of Science (getting pregnant) and Progress (getting their family to be a cohesive unit) would kind of work out.]

So, maybe everyone kind of settles for a bit. All is well. I don't think the kids fight a lot in the beginning because they're just getting to know each other and the "new kids" are treading lightly. They don't want to make any mistakes. And maybe YNGC will actually say something at one point. Maybe s/he does something - has an accident, breaks a cup, something small and stupid - and has a complete melt-down. I messed up. This is it. We're being sent away. You know, the usual kid blame stuff.

S and R sit everyone down and pretty much try to explain the idea of family. Eventually S just says - sucks for you but you're kind of stuck with us until we die. And even then, I plan to haunt you for a while. Y'know, just make sure you're doing alright and putting the toilet seat down - she side-eyes ONB.

This opens up a little more freedom for the new kids. They start feeling like they own something again - toys are theirs and only get taken away during time-out and things like that. They start to feel more rooted.

But then the baby comes. And that changes the rules in ONB's mind. This is where the "that's YOUR kid" starts... So, maybe some acting up. Testing. I think he'd probably test S the most because he's the most like her. Smart, quick and honest - he cuts through the crap and doesn't play games. And he just wants to be loved and included - to feel like he belongs. S gets that.

There'd have to be something. I don't know - like, something that freaks him out and makes him think that S will choose the baby over him. Not sure what. Have to really think on it. Big blow up. you're not my mom - you'll never love me like you love the baby - I'm not YOUR kid - all that crap. And S doesn't go the gentle route with him. She goes the path that leads her to a fast and furious discussion - they go back and forth, trading barb for barb (though she's not ruthless like she would be if it was Finn or something). -I didn't bring you into the world but that doesn't mean you're not MY kid and all that stuff. It's really between S and ONC.

He doesn't dislike R, that's not why he doesn't test her. He doesn't have to test her. The second that M starts calling R "mom" or something akin to it, he sees that R is open to being a parent to someone else's kid. That she acts like M is her own child. He's really caught up on who belongs with whom. The details of it all.

At some point, they have to move from being foster parents to actually adopting them. Boom. Solidified. You're stuck with us. (And I've now completely lost track of planning chapters ... word vomit! Yay!).

Herein is where the planning stopped and we began to really wrap up the story you just finished reading before starting this wild ride of a post. Thanks for reading - y'all are super wonderful!


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